


Empires

by ZereldaMarx035



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud, Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Abibba Rivalry, Alternate Universe - Magic, Bartimaeus - Freeform, Demons, F/F, F/M, Gen, Magic, Questionable governmental practices, Raylla
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24142741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZereldaMarx035/pseuds/ZereldaMarx035
Summary: A reimagining of the Motherland: Fort Salem world where the Bellweather unit interacts with demons reticent of those from the Bartimaeus trilogy by Jonathan Stroud.Abigail has just risen from a measly apprentice to a full-time Magician. Planning her rise through the ranks, Abigail is given the task of hunting down those that mean to do her homeland harm. Pitted against her arch-nemesis Libba Swythe, Abigail struggles to wrangle the resistance that has made a home in High Atlantic Society's backyard.Tally Craven is a dodger of the apprentice program. Terrified of losing her daughter, Tally's mother hid her daughters' existence from the world. Unwilling to live in fear as her mother wishes, Tally finds herself embraced by the magician community as she's invited to decadent festivals and parties. If only she could keep her secret from those she is beginning to call friends.Raelle Collar is a mystery wrapped in an enigma. The only apprentice by a current president, Raelle has proven a unique case amongst her fellow youths in possessing two magical traits instead of one. Incredibly strong in magic, Raelle has proven herself to be a force to reckon with and a future asset for the American Government.
Relationships: Abigail Bellweather & Raelle Collar & Tally Craven, Abigail Bellweather/Libba Swythe, Gerit Buttonwood/Tally Craven, Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 51
Kudos: 180





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments or kudos are much appreciated. I hope you enjoy the story.

The High Atlantic Gala, the event of the year was in session. Apprentices and their Masters gathered outside the Metropolitan Museum dressed in their most expensive regalia. Abigail stood poised in a black dress, strategic slits lining her ribs. The cut of the dress dipped low, to the middle of her breast bone, the skirt slashed upwards towards a thigh. Her master, Petra Bellweather was one of the key figures to grace the event with her presence, Abigail a close second.

The presentment of the Apprentices was a long-standing tradition predating the signing of the Constitution, all the way to their forefather's origins in the British Parliament. Every Master was supposed to raise their apprentice to full Magician status after a series of completed tests. Abigail had mastered every test that her mentor had thrown at her. Moulers, foliots, even a fourth level djinni, although even Abigail had to admit that the djinni had a mouth.

It was her night, the day she was ingratiated into the ranks of the elite. She would take the first step towards fulfilling her destiny, for now, Junior Assistant to the Secretary of Security, her own master Petra Bellweather, next President of the United States of America. For now, she exercised the utmost patience. She knew the road would be hard, but if her master taught her anything it was the taste of victory.

The night began with the ceremonial entrance of the President and her Cabinet. Petra Bellweather, Secretary of Security, wore a shiny new suit with gleaming epaulets. Madelyn Swythe, Secretary of Internal Affairs following behind in a beautifully cut white dress, her intense gaze only rivaled by her young ward Libba. Libba’s curly black hair reflected the elegant candlelight, her navy blue gown riveting as it seemed to shimmer with the same mesmerizing quality of a night sky.

As the remainder of the High Atlantic Society filed in the lesser magicians made way, clearing a path for their emergence. The President was the last to enter followed by her honor guard of Afrits called “The Biddies.” Her imposing presence instilled a respectful silence in the crowd as she strode down the human-made aisle. President Sarah Alder assessed the crowd with pale blue eyes, her expression domineering and poignant.

Once the guests had pledged their allegiance to their mighty government the real party began. Jugglers and acrobats made their rounds as women and men spiraled from Lyra hoops. A large chandelier hung above them, it’s many crystalized lights shimmering in beautiful patterns. Waiters attended to the partygoers, hefting lofty black trays of hors d’oeuvres as they passed. Abigail plucked a single glass filled with a bubbling yellow liquid, shrimp dangling from the edge of the glass as she scanned her fellow magicians for a fellow conversation mate.

“Looking to steal someone’s joy, Bedwetter?” Libba sneered, she had leaned in to whisper the words into the shell of Abigail’s ear. The smaller girl wore heels but still had to raise herself higher to make it past Abigail’s chin. Abigail smirked, appreciative of her height advantage. “What do you want shit turkey,” Abigail sighed. She took a long draught of her drink, she would prefer intoxication over Swythe’s slobbering any day. “I thought I should mention that I’ve been put on the Taskforce against The Resistance, a big assignment in comparison to your fuck ups in Lebanon.”

“What happened in Lebanon was a tragedy and unfortunate, but my Master was hardly responsible for that slip-up. After all, wasn’t Internal affairs supposed to handle the interrogation to get the proper information?” Abigail remarked snidely. “After all, it was your department that leaked.” The shorter girl glared daggers at her but failed to find a retort. Instead, the girl simply sneered and spun about on one of her immaculate heels, leaving to continue the conversation elsewhere.

The rest of the night found Abigail wandering the great hall, consuming her second or third cocktail. Her balance hardly affected by the alcohol, she slipped through the crowd until she arrived at the buffet table. A girl with long auburn hair draped over a shoulder was busying herself with a combination of sausage and potatoes. The plate was overfilled with morsels from the bountiful feast on the table, it’s contents toppling over the lip of the plate and onto the floor.

“Got enough there?” Abigail commented. The girl turned, eyes wide with thinly veiled panic before she shifted the plate higher up her arm and held out her empty hand. “Hi, sorry, I’m Tally;” The girl exclaimed somewhat excitedly. Abigail took the hand, gently shaking it before subtly wiping the other girls' sweat on the skirt of her dress. “Hi Tally, are you going to save any for the rest of us?” Abigail teased lightly, the girl’s innocence was almost endearing. Like a puppy.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry!” The girl stammered. Abigail watched Tally fumble with the plate slightly, her eyes comically wide as she clumsily attempted to push some of her food back onto the buffet trays. “I’m so sorry, I just saw the food and couldn’t help myself. Gosh, I really hope I –“

Abigail laid a calming hand on the girl’s shoulder, turning Tally to face her. “It’s okay, I was joking. There’s plenty of food, they’ve been cooking everything in the kitchens all day. You’re fine.” Tally’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment, one of her feet began a soft thumping against the floor. “Right, yes, of course.”

“You’re acting as though you’ve never seen a feast before,” Abigail chuckled. Tally did a quick study of the hall once more, her eyes shining with wonderment. “Have you never seen a feast before?” Abigail remarked with surprise coloring her voice. Tally pursed her lips slightly in answer. “Well that just won’t do Ms. Tally, let me show you around.”

Forgetting her food-laden dish Tally allowed Abigail to guide her into the crowd.

“That’s Secretary Isadora and her old Apprentice Scylla Ramshorn. It’s weird that they don’t share a last name, but no one really mentions it to them. They run the Intelligence community. From what I’ve heard, they’re kinda creepy.” Abigail said pointing at two women, one of which had their hair pulled up into a neat bun. The other one wore a black dress with a slit leading up her leg. A ring adorned her finger, paired with a choker. Her brown hair was also tied up to match her old masters. “They look so severe,” Tally exclaimed. “Yeah, well Scylla’s parents were branded rebels when she was younger. They tried to keep her.”

“What happened to them?” Tally asked, fearful of the answer. “Well, they were executed. As you know, any attempts to form a dynasty are punishable by death. Magicians aren’t even supposed to have children. When they do, they’re given to CPS to be assigned a new home and name. Supposedly Scylla showed such promise at a young age though that Isadora took her under her wing. There’s no fear of a dynasty when there’s only one member of the family left.”

“So is Scylla her birth name?” Tally inquired. Abigail laughed before responding, “No one has a birth name, you should know that. Her parents gave her a name of course but no one knows it, supposedly she chose her own name instead of Isadora, doing it as soon as they captured her.”

Tally watched the girl take a sullen sip from a wine glass, she appeared almost bored. “That’s Gerrit Buttonwood,” Abigail broke through Tally’s concentration as she pointed to a tall boy with curly hair and warm brown eyes. “Buttonwood and his master are part of the Propaganda and Entertainment Department. They make sure the commoners stay loyal and distracted.”

“He seems nice,” Tally commented. Her eye caught the boys, both of them offering a small smile. “Oh, looks like Buttonwood is coming over;” Abigail said cheerily. Gerrit approached with an affable smile, one hand tucked in a pocket while the other held a drink. “Hey Abigail, holding down the fort in the Security department?”

“You know it,” Abigail drawled. Tally saw the girl seemed to ooze confidence from the way she tilted her chin slightly upwards and the straight rigidness of her back. “Anything interesting in your department?” Abigail inquired politely. Gerrit shrugged, “You know, the usual. Agustin is trying to gather more support for his play, Byron is trying to greenlight a new festival.”

“New festival?” Tally exclaimed excitedly, she loved the festivals. Whenever her mother was otherwise occupied, she slipped from the house to bask in the glow and pomp of the streets. The city always seemed to light up with their nation's colors and confetti. Gerrit laughed at the girl’s excitement. “Yeah, we always have to have a new festival in the works. Keeps the people happy.” Tally wanted to ask more questions but was interrupted by Abigail. “This is Tally, she’s apparently never been to one of these gatherings.”

“Really?” Gerrit looked at the girl with feigned indignation, “You’ve never been to one of the many parties my master is in charge of planning? I’m hurt, honestly hurt.” The boy clutched his heart, his expression morphing into one of anguish. “I know, I was surprised too.” Abigail chimed in, “Your master must be a real stickler. Who are they by the way?” She asked as she turned to look at the redhead.

Tally’s pulse quickened at the question, unable to answer. “No one you would know, really low on the totem pole;” Tally squeaked. “Oh, well that explains your lack of attendance, the lower magicians are so archaic and gruff all the time;” Abigail sighed. “They never know how to let loose,” the girl continued as Tally nodded along absentmindedly. She was growing more uncomfortable by the second. “I should go, I came here with a friend and I should really find them.” She excused herself, rather abruptly Abigail might add.

Abigail watched the girl speed off, a flash of red hair and a floral patterned dress. “Well, she seemed nice;” Gerrit said with a genuine smile. The man was such a sap. “Okay Buttonwood, don’t go marrying below your station. Your master might kill you.” Gerrit rolled his eyes, “Of course not.” He chuckled before adding, “She was really pretty though.”

…

Tally scoured the room for her friend Glory, frantically trying to find the girl so they could leave. She quickly discovered her friend dancing with another woman, chattering lightly about one of her experiences summoning a minor foliot. Tally regretfully snatched Glory away with a muttered apology as she steered her friend towards the large double-doored entryway.

“Why are we leaving so quickly?” Glory inquired. She was surprised to see Tally so panicked. “I was asked questions about who my master is,” Tally hissed. They wove around a member of the waitstaff and stepped out onto the carpeted entryway. “We’re leaving because you simply got asked a question, did they suspect anything?” Glory argued, she dug in her heels causing the pair to skid to a stop. “I don’t know, I just didn’t know how to answer it.”

“Well just come up with a name, they’ll probably just assume you’re below their status and ignore you.” Glory urged her friend, her eyes flickered between Tally and the girl she had been dancing with, who had followed them through the crowd. “What if they know them?” Tally snapped, worry tightening her chest. “I don’t know, but I don’t think we should leave simply because they asked a single question.” Glory stated. Tally watched as her friend made a beeline back towards the dancefloor, leaving her next to a blonde girl in a suit.

The girl beside tally wore a simple black suit, the jacket was buttoned just above where her belly button would be. She turned to Tally, drinking heavily from her glass of champagne. “Dodger, huh?” The girl said calmly to Tally. Tally’s eyes widened with fear. “No, I was just –“ Tally’s protestation was cut off by the other girl’s raised hand. “It’s fine, I honestly couldn’t care less.” The girl held out her hand and Tally took it, their fingers tightening in reassurance. “I’m Raelle, Raelle Collar.” The girl let Tally’s hand drop before taking another deep gulp of her drink. “No need to be skittish here, no one will remember the rest of the night anyway.” The girl pointed towards a large man standing beside the president, he had a wide smile and a large hand cupping Alder’s waist. “That man is called the Witch Father by the commoners, although I’ve heard one or two apprentices call him Witch Daddy.” Tally snorted in response to the new information. “No one knows what he does but he commands a powerful djinn of his own, he’s the master to some guy named Porter.” Raelle pointed at the blond boy standing beside the Witchfather. The boy was staring forlornly at the same girl Abigail had pointed out earlier.

“That girl over there,” Raelle pointed at Abigail who was dancing with two boys, sandwiched between the pair as they ground against her. “That is Abigail Bellweather, Junior Assistant to the Secretary of Security, also known as your biggest threat. I’d keep your secret from her if I were you.” Tally couldn’t help noticing the derision in Raelle’s voice. “You don’t like her?” Tally chanced to query.

Raelle shrugged begrudgingly, “She’s a stiff. I don’t trust high society girls like her.”

Before Tally has time to pry further Raelle’s attention is called by one of the Biddy’s. “Coming,” Raelle muttered. Tally watched the girl down the contents of her glass before giving a mock salute. “Duty calls,” the girl said as she traipsed off towards President Alder.

The music had stopped and the partygoers were beginning to congregate at the foot of a stage located at the other end of the hall from the buffet table. The President and her entourage were assembled atop the stage as the members of High Society took their places at the front of the crowd. Tally could see Abigail towering over many of her fellow apprentices.

“Greetings fellow Americans,” Alder’s voice boomed over the microphone. Cameras were seen flashing as photographers attempted to get the best picture. “Today is a special day for all of us. It is when apprentices graduate and join our ranks as full-fledged magicians.” The crowd was dead silent except for the clicking of camera shutters. “This special day is a hallmark for each of us, we all have risen from lowly apprentices to masters in our own rights. We refrain from upsetting the balance with our own blood and move to accept new generations into our hearts and minds through our apprenticeship and ward programs. With our systems we protect the world from the dynastic wars of the past where only blood was loyal to blood and death ran rampant. We create a safe space for children to create a future for themselves, we create safety and reward our loyal servants.” Alder paused, her eyes scanning the crowd.

“We are the leaders of the magical world. Our power lords over countless Afrits, Djinn, and lesser demons to protect our great nation against the powers that seek to destroy us. Where commoners believe in their god, we wield reality itself. Reaching into the Other Side and binding otherwise evil beings to our will, we are magicians. Guardians of this world and all those that live in it.” Alder hesitated once more. “It is with great pleasure that I grant this long-honored title to my apprentice, one Raelle Collar.”

Tally’s heart stopped, a choked squeak bubbling out and past her lips. Panic seemed to force the air from her lungs as she watched Alder toast the short blonde girl Tally had spoken to only moments ago. For what it was worth Raelle looked thoroughly unimpressed, accepting the ceremonial scry and ring offered her. Raelle flashed a forced smile before stepping back. A smattering of applause filled the hall before the next Apprentice and master pairs stepped onto the stage.

Tally watched as Abigail and Gerrit were presented, each bowing to their master one last time. The ceremony stretching into the night as all the apprentices were promoted. A sigh sounded from beside her, causing her to jump. Glory stood to Tally’s right, eyes wistful. “I wish we got to participate in The Raising Ceremony;” Glory said wistfully. Tally couldn’t help agreeing slightly, the magician’s festivities appeared particularly alluring that day. Their auras buzzed with the faint traces of magic that laced their many rings and amulets. Each bauble seemed to glow slightly at different intensities. Where before Abigail had no particular aura, now there was a faint glow about her left forefinger as it rested upon a new boy’s shoulder.

“Ready to go?” Glory inquired. Tally nodded, allowing her friend to guide her out but not before Raelle Collar’s blue yes met Tally’s brown. Offering her a toast, Raelle’s smile seemed to haunt Tally as she made her exit. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Abigail's took up residence in her mind, "They were executed as Rebels," It said. Reminding her of just what she was.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tally finds herself in a tight spot as the truth of her identity is put at risk. Raelle searches for a truth that has been kept from her. Abigail's job is just getting started.

Tally’s punishment for her secret rendezvous with society’s elite was two weeks of confinement to the house and mandatory chores. A punishment she promptly took without question as she waited with bated breath for the arrival of the Night Police at her door. By the time she managed to relinquish her anxiety, her punishment had come to a close. Raelle’s name and blue eyes ceased haunting her and were replaced with curiosity. To Tally’s knowledge the former apprentice had resisted revealing her secret, but for how long would the President remain oblivious? It was clear the apprentice had a bone to pick with the system as well, why else would she keep Tally's secret? But what could that bone be?

Glory’s mother was all too fond of reminding both girls of their scrupulous behavior, they often capitulated to the woman’s long-winded lectures as they helped hang the laundry on long lines stretching between their houses. The small suburb they lived in was far from New York, the two girls having summoned a taxi to carry them to their planned destination. Tally listened to Glory prattle on about the magician girl she had met at the Gala. Their communications, via imp, was a well-kept secret from Glory’s mother.

  
“She said there’s to be another parade soon,” Tally’s friend exclaimed. The excitement was evident in the shorter girl’s brown eyes, Tally couldn’t resist forming a smile. A parade in the city was hardly an event meant just for magicians, commoners were welcome to frequent the streets of Manhattan as well. The soldiers and djinn usually assembled and marched through Time Square as the commoners cheered from their prospective balconies. The only trick would be convincing their mothers.

  
“Miranda said she’d send a car for me if I wanted, I could ask if you can come as well?” Glory said, her expression was hopeful. It had been a long time since she had seen outside of the suburb. A long time for Tally as well. “If we can both convince our Mom’s to let us go, then yes,” Tally said haltingly, her mind seemed to become a whirlwind of possibilities. The possibility of seeing Raelle and Abigail again had a low probability, since most magicians paid little attention to their plotted distractions, however, that hardly meant impossible. “We have to be careful though if you see the President’s Apprentice watch out. She saw you with me so she knows the truth.” Glory nodded in response, eyes searching the area around them for search orbs which made a pass over their neighborhood occasionally.

  
“Do you ever wish we were simply entered into the program, so we wouldn’t have to hide like this?” Glory wondered aloud. Tally sighed, unable to deny that the prospect hadn’t crossed her mind. The system was harsh and rigid. The way of the world was explained with limited definitions by Tally’s mother, a former magician who had promptly retired upon becoming pregnant with Tally.

  
Both Tally and Glory’s mothers had falsified records that they had lost their babies. Upon their birth, the two girls were hidden until the age of eleven where they had received falsified commoner’s papers. They had no birth name in truth, only the falsified papers they were given. Before then their mothers simply referred to them as ‘girls’. Tally remembered asking her mother about her lack of a name one day after meeting a girl named Natalie. “Names are powerful Tally, your true name will be hidden forever so no one can gain power over you. If you do not know it then demons and those that seek to harm you may never use it against you.”

As Tally got older her mother realized there was something special about her daughter. She could see things, auras of sorts. When Tally began to take small objects of power from shops her mother became increasingly worried, the Sight was a potent gift. A special gift that the government treasured in its apprentices. A gift Tally proudly displayed when she presented her mother with rings and assorted baubles. She still had a collection of the items stored in a box under her bed, though, after being reprimanded at such a young age she began hiding her pickings from her mother. As time passed she stopped stealing altogether, the moral consequences finally sinking in.

The snap of a screen door broke Tally from her reverie, the scent of beef, potatoes, and onions wafting towards them. “See you after dinner?” Glory asked. Tally agreed before they both scampered off towards their respective houses.

Tally’s home was a respectable size with a laminate countertop and a gas stove lining the back wall. An island with a silver sink was situated in the center of the room where her mother stood doing the dishes. The blonde woman’s hands were worn and her glasses dangled slightly from her nose. Tally’s approach was greeted with a small smile and a nod towards the kitchen table. Tally took up a position at the wooden table, a placemat and ceramic plates were set properly with a fork and napkin.

“Is the laundry drying?” Her mom inquired. Tally nodded, placing a large helping of the potatoes and beef onto her dish she started to dig in. “That’s good, are you and Glory getting together after dinner?” Tally nodded once more, holding a hand over her mouth she gulped loudly before responding. “Yeah, actually we were hoping to go into the city to see the parade.” Tally figured it would be best to rip the band-aid off quickly, per se.  
“Parade?” Her Mother stated stiffly, “What is this one celebrating?”

Tally pressed her lips together and puffed her cheeks slightly, she had no clue what the parade was for this time. Usually, the Propaganda and Entertainment officials gave glossy titles and explanations for their gatherings, yet everyone knew it was simply an excuse to distract the public. Commoners were given basic jobs and amenities, none of them seeing a hint of the luxury that magicians were provided. Her mother enjoyed critiquing the system loudly and often.

“I’m not sure, but I know Glory really wants to go.” Tally’s explanation did not improve her mother’s demeanor. “It’s dangerous, you know that. We can be executed – “ Tally sighed, interrupting her mother’s words. “I know mom, but I can’t live the rest of my life terrified. You gave me commoner papers, let me use them. There will be millions of commoners at the parade, it’ll be more noticeable if I don’t go.”

She was right of course, those with no magic had little awareness of the governments’ true nature. They were left unaware of the spirits and demons that their government was so embroiled with. Those without resistance or sight enhancements were often left to menial careers as teachers or municipal workers. Children that showed early signs of magical ability were promptly given up to the government for training, a rare development that seemed to have little to do with blood. Commoner children and magician children alike developed such talents, although magician children were frowned upon as a result of dynasties and family bonds corrupting individual judgment in the face of government order.

“Alright, you can go;” her mother acquiesced, “But only if Glory is going as well,” Her mother added resolutely. Tally nodded in agreement, she most likely would not attend if it weren’t for Glory’s wishes anyway. With a smile, Tally dropped a kiss on her mother’s head and ran off to alert Glory of tomorrow's plans.

The next day found Tally packed into the back of a black Mercedes with Glory and Miranda. Glory’s companion had dark brown hair and pale white skin. Her green eyes seemed alight with something akin to mischief. Tally could see the aura around the girl’s shiny new Magician’s ring, bold and daunting on a pale finger.

Glory and Tally spent the day dodging questions about their parentage, distraction being a practiced strategy of theirs. It soon became apparent however that Miranda had no such interest in actually learning about them, instead, turning the conversation to herself whenever she could. Tally watched as Glory hung onto every one of the girl’s words, nodding along eagerly.

The car ride went at a snail's pace, traffic halting their progress upon Washington Bridge. Horns bleated around them as they edged forward inch by inch. Miranda’s frown deepening with every passing minute. When the car finally made it through the girl had dipped into a silver flask that she promptly offered to Glory. Both girls taking measured swigs as Tally looked on.

Their arrival was a close one, the parade floats seemed to just begin their route when the girls stepped onto the overly ornate balcony. Magicians, all around Tally’s age, were congregated overlooking the celebration below. “Hey, strange seeing you here again Tally;” Abigail’s voice sounded from across the room. Tally turned to see the taller girl approaching, a glass of wine in hand.

“I did get your name right, right?” Abigail chuckled, Tally remained silent. “Yeah, it’s Tally alright, Tally Craven,” Raelle said from behind the redhead. Tally whipped around with wide eyes, her mouth opening in a slight ‘O’. “Craven? Like Harold Craven? The dead magician whose wife had the miscarriage?” Abigail inquired. “The very same,” Raelle replied with a smug smile on her face.

“I didn’t know he had an apprentice,” Abigail exclaimed, assessing Tally with renewed interest. “He did, she was assigned to the Education department a long time ago.” Raelle lied with ease, her expression betraying nothing. Tally was impressed and slightly terrified. She never knew her father although the last name matched. Whenever she asked about her father Tally’s mom got exceedingly quiet until the subject was changed.

“I didn’t see a ring on her last time we met, I didn’t even know she was a full-fledged magician.” Abigail’s comment was quickly waved away by Raelle who held up a silver ring similar to their own. “She dropped this at the Gala, I’ve been looking to return it in person. Didn’t want it getting into the wrong hands.” Raelle placed the ring in Tally’s palm and curled the redhead’s fingers around it gently. “Don’t lose it next time, don’t want a bad case of mistaken identity.” Tally nodded and placed the ring on her finger, it was a perfect fit.

Abigail, whose curiosity was sufficiently sated, moved on to other topics. Regaling Tally with her frustrations regarding another magician named ‘Libba Swythe’, who wasn’t present at the time, Abigail spoke incessantly about the Resistance. “That dumb blithering Swythe can’t tell an imp from a utukku, I swear she’s going to get one of the security units killed with her ineptitude.”

“What’s an utukku?” Tally inquired before she could stop herself. Abigail stared at her oddly before answering, “It’s a demon that precedes America by multiple centuries. They usually take on the form of humans with animal heads, a higher form of demon but usually inferior to djinni.”

“Oh, right, of course;” Tally stammered. Abigail watched as the girl’s cheeks grew red with embarrassment. “Hey, it happens. We all forget the names of things, it’s not a problem as long as we aren’t summoning anything at the time.” Tally opened her mouth to change the subject but felt an arm slip underneath hers as she was yanked away from Abigail by an impatient Raelle.

“Ouch,” Tally muttered upon Raelle dropping her arm. “Sorry, I had to get you out of there before Bellweather made your cover.” The other girl explained.  
“It’s okay, I understand, thanks by the way. For the story and the ring.”

Raelle laughed lightly over her glass of champagne, “Don’t mention it, I did some digging and found you a good lie. Now you can be one of us, I even have Byron in on it. He’s going to get you into the education department. Make it really realistic.”

Tally blinked in surprise, “Why, how?” She stammered, “Why are you doing all this for me, you don’t know me, like, at all.”

“I don’t need to know you to want to help,” Raelle shrugged. A small flash in her eyes led Tally to believe this wasn’t as much about helping Tally as it was about getting back at someone. “I don’t believe you,” Tally said resolutely. Raelle’s calm gaze faltered for a second before settling back into a smooth mask of indifference, “What makes you say that?”

“My mom always said that magicians were selfish to their core, but it’s not their fault. That’s what you’re taught. Secrets are a magician's trade, but I won’t let you play with my life and not tell me your reasoning. That's not helping, that’s making me a pawn and I’m better than that.” Tally’s words seemed to impress the other girl who’s eyes crinkled into the first genuine smile Tally had seen. “You’re right, you deserve an explanation.” Tally beamed, her chest puffed out slightly from her pride in standing up for herself. Her mother’s words, chiding Tally for being ‘too soft’, seemed to lessen for the first time in her life.

“I’m helping because I think the no child rule is stupid and if I could have avoided all of this I would have.” Raelle said, “I saw you looking at our world from the outside and decided to let you have it both ways.” The girl’s eyes seemed to get lost for a moment as her mind worked in the background, blocking Tally out. “Take it as a small favor in exchange for allowing me some form of revenge against the world I’ve been forced into.”

Tally watched as Raelle turned and walked away, her swaggering walk appeared slower, sadder.

Tally wandered over to the small buffet table situated against the glass guardrail of the balcony. A familiar girl with blue eyes to match Raelle’s stood hunched over a lobster platter, her perfect brow furrowed. “Do you see butter?” The girl asked Tally, her hand came up to chest height, fingers clasping a lobster claw. “N-no, I haven’t;” Tally said in answer, surprised at the sinister girl’s simple question. “That’s a shame,” the other girl replied. Tally watched the girl clap her hands so a small imp resembling a cherub appeared before them clutching a notepad. “Can you go down to the nearest available market and get me the butter?” The girl requested of her demon, the baby nodded and exited with a small pop. “Imp, first level, child’s play;” the girl with the lobster explained.

“Oh, I know, I was just surprised that he didn’t talk back,” Tally exclaimed. The imps she had summoned were usually rude and bold enough to give her lip after every order. The girl, Scylla, Tally remembered the name now, looked at her with clear curiosity. “Really, you don’t have a strong magical aura around you. Almost thought you were a commoner,” Scylla exclaimed. Tally opened her mouth to respond, but stopped, Abigail was approaching. “Hey Tally, what did Collar want with you?”

“Oh she just wanted to talk in private,” Tally lied. Scylla’s gaze had settled on Abigail with a slightly menacing smirk in place. “Hello High Atlantic,” Scylla greeted Abigail, her lips stretched into a forced smile. “Necro,” Abigail responded coolly. Neither girl gave an air of liking one another. “How’s the Resistance work?” Scylla inquired with feigned politeness. “As good as ever, not that your intelligence unit helps much.” Abigail's glare was like ice, both women challenging one another nonverbally.

“We help where we can,” Scylla said curtly. Tally stood awkwardly between the girls, searching the room with her eyes for Glory only to find her friend wrapped around Miranda.

“There have been inquiries about a rat somewhere in your department,” Abigail quipped to an unimpressed Scylla. “News to me, I’ll make sure to ask around though. For now, I should go, I can’t wait until we meet again.” Scylla exclaimed sarcastically before disappeared into the crowd and leaving Tally alone with Abigail once more.  
…

Raelle stood another two floors up watching the passing of the floats below. Her mind wandering to the past, memories of her Mama teaching her Aldebrandt’s pentacle washed over her. Brushing tears from her eyes, Raelle settled herself before reciting a familiar incantation. A small black cloud appeared as a small boy with a pointed nose and black hair. “Bartimaeus,” Raelle greeted the djinn softly. The boy nodded his head, it was a form the djinn preferred. “A reminder of a past master,” the creature had admitted. “Have you discovered anything new?” Raelle asked she knew kindness was a quicker way to Bartimaeus’s obedience than haughty orders.

“Nothing so far, according to all documentation your Mom’s dead, sorry kid;” Bartimaeus’s response was far from unexpected. The government’s records claimed the death of Raelle’s mother had been an accident, albeit a tragic one. Raelle was six when she summoned her first imp, far before most children developed a firm grasp of a magician’s skill set. The woman that Raelle called her mother was her first master. Secretary of Public Health, Willa Collar was an adept magician that treated Raelle with kindness and patience. It was only after the accident when Raelle was fourteen that she was forced to continue her training under the Tutelage of President Sarah Alder.

“Do you think another djinn or even an afrit would know something?” Raelle suggested to the djinn. “Higher up beings like an afrit wouldn’t answer me if I did ask, you’d have to summon one yourself and order them to tell you what they know. I can ask around for you in on the Other Side if you want? Summon me in a little bit for a chat,” Bartimaeus offered. Raelle sighed, “Yeah, I really appreciate your help Bartimaeus.” The djinn nodded. “At the risk of being called a bootlicking magician lover, you’re not so bad for someone of your kind. No strict orders, no punishments. You keeping me listed down on stand by has probably saved my essence from other masters that are less forgiving. You know I’d choose to see your miserable mug over any of the other pompous pricks out there." The demon complimented her, his tone that of a jovial friend's. ”Even over the former master, you’re appearing as?” Raelle teased.

  
“Ha, this idiot? He was hardly a saint, ambitious, power-hungry. Too smart for his own good, couldn’t leave well enough alone. Shame what happened to him but it’s a risk you magicians take every time you say one of your pretty incantations.”

Raelle gave Bartimaeus a small smile as the djinn continued to babble about his past master’s discrepancies. He was a quite talkative creature. When he finally finished up, the final anthem was beginning to sound. The sun was lowering itself behind the city skyline. “Do you want to go, Bartimaeus? I’m getting tired,” Raelle’s words were punctuated by a yawn and a large stretch. She never worried too much about moving outside her pentacle. Bartimaeus was one of the friendlier spirits she had spoken to. “Yeah, my essence is a little tired too. When would you want to summon me back, you know time works differently on the Other Side.”

“Does three weeks work?” Raelle’s time suggestion brought a small grimace to the boy’s face. “I’ll probably need a bit more than that if I’m gonna dig deep enough.”

“Four?”

“Six,” the djinn bargained. Raelle agreed. Quickly dismissing the creature she stretched once more before making her way back down to the party. Byron awaited her at the elevator, he wore a purple suit and a big smile. “Finally rejoining the masses I see,” his excitable demeanor was always a perfect distraction for Raelle’s otherwise morose mind.

“Have you seen Porter?” Raelle asked she needed to talk to the boy about information Alder had discovered. An underground community of dodgers had congregated in Hell’s Kitchen, hardly surprising but the Resistance’s forces had been found there in large numbers as well. Byron shook his head. “Haven’t seen him, last I heard he was dawdling about his ex. Scylla Ramshorn.”

“The Junior Intelligence Director?” Raelle said.

“The very same, short, blue eyes, y’ know – “

“Don’t say it,” Raelle interrupted the boy. He ignored her.

“She’s totally your type, who was that last girl you dated?” Byron pressed. Raelle rolled her eyes, “I’m not looking for a girlfriend right now.” She said resolutely.

Byron held his hands up in mock surrender. “Whatever you say, I just think maybe you should give that Scylla girl a ring. Heard she’s hot.” Raelle groaned. “I haven’t met her, she never shows up for the senior member meetings Alder drags me to. Supposedly Isadora sends her out a lot, foreign intelligence gathering.”

“Perfect,” Byron exclaimed completely obstinate in his quest to find Raelle a significant other. “She can be off god knows where while you’re doing whatever errands Alder sends you on. Or whatever stuff you’re so determined to keep secret.” Raelle opened her mouth to protest but Byron beat her to it, “You thought I wouldn’t notice the privacy screen you cast around your entire apartment? Magical sight remember. I can see all the planes, it’s a gift.”  
…

Abigail stood sullenly under the dim lighting of the antechamber. She had been requested to appear via messenger imp. Her old Master, Petra Bellweather, stood peering over a map of China and Russia. The two countries were supposedly plotting something, a dynasty war taking place between the two nations. Libba stood across the table wearing a slim fitting black dress and heels, her dark eyeliner made her light brown irises pop in the darkness. “They’ve been gathering strength for a powerful incantation for months now. I heard they managed to wrestle the proper supplies for Golems as well.”

Petra scoffed lightly, shaking her head in agitation. Madelyn Swythe looked on with obvious disapproval. “You should leave the information gathering to my department Petra, it’s outside your jurisdiction to push for information from my informants.”

“When it’s a matter of the nation’s security in the face of outside aggression, I have full jurisdiction and you know it, Madelyn.” Petra snapped.

The other woman fell silent, instead, glaring daggers at Abigail’s mentor. “What about Intelligence, shouldn’t they be handling this?” Abigail pointed out. Petra groaned, “They’re working on prying information from –“ Petra’s explanation was interrupted by the door opening.

President Alder entered, straight-backed and disapproving. Raelle Collar trailed behind her along with Isadora and her old apprentice. “Madame President,”

Petra and Madelyn greeted Alder with a salute, Libba and Abigail followed their lead with a stiff resignation.

“Whatever you’ve been doing needs to be put to the side, the Resistance has struck. Casualties are being accounted for right now,” Alder turned and gestured for someone else to enter. Abigail watched as Tally strode forth shyly. “This girl claims to have seen the person who set off the first Elemental sphere.”


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Resistance attacks and Tally becomes a key witness. Raelle (re)meets Scylla as they remember a shred of shared history together.

The small gathering of magicians grew into a frenzy as the occupancy of the room grew. Tally flitted from group to group with Abigail, graciously accepting offered hands or the casual embrace. Each person had something intriguing to say. Some about their servants, preference of tailor, where to obtain the best artifacts. Tally only half-listened to each one, barely keeping up with the near mania of her compatriots.

“Tally meet Agustin,” Abigail grasped a man around their age by the shirt, casual. The boy had black curly hair and olive skin, his lips were turned up in a smirk. “A pleasure,” he stated, Tally heard the lilt of a Spanish accent. “Hi,” she waved shyly at the boy and offered a small smile. Agustin turned to Abigail, unimpressed. Tally listened as he began to converse with Abigail in Spanish, both their voices dancing together as they began to blend in with the rest of the party’s hum.

“Tally,” a familiar boy exclaimed. She turned to face the voices’ owner, her eyes meeting the warm brown of Gerit’s. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d be here. Your name is Tally, right?” Tally nodded. “Yes, Tally Craven.” She held out her hand to shake, shoulders tensed. She felt awkward in front of this smiling boy. He took her hand instead of shaking it, leading her instead into the crowd and away from Abigail and Agustin’s intense conversation.

“Your master let you out for this?” He inquired.

“I don’t have a master,” Tally answered, Raelle’s story began to rattle around in her head. “I had my raising ceremony in private last year,” she lied.

“How old are you?”

“18,” Tally answered without thinking, her eyes widened slightly as she realized her mistake. “I was granted full magician status last year.” Her explanation came out haltingly, unsure. Gerit seemed to assess her for a second, his brown eyes hiding the churning of his mind. “Well, I guess it makes sense that they promoted you early considering what happened with his death. People never heard much about him, kept to himself mostly.”

“Y-yeah,” Tally rushed to agree, latching onto the new information. “It’s odd that you didn’t join the Public Health Department like him once you ranked up. Most apprentices follow in their master’s footsteps.”

“Yeah, I was more interested in working with children;” Tally stammered. “You know, the youth is our future, and all that…”

“I guess,” Gerit shrugged. The music changed suddenly, almost slow. “Hey, babe;” A pretty girl with black hair and daring brown eyes approached and wrapped a hand around Gerit’s bicep. “Dance with me?” The girl didn't wait for the boy to follow her, instead Tally watched her drag him towards the small dance floor that was beginning to take up the living room. The couches and tables had mysteriously vanished allowing the dancing couples to multiply. The military band could still be heard through the open balcony doors, the orchestra fading into the pounding of electronic music.

Gerit flashed Tally an apologetic smile before being tugged away by his new companion, leaving the redhead to get further acquainted with the apartment. She saw Abigail talking to the air, most likely a demon, before rushing out the door. The girl grabbed another person with a vice grip, the shorter girl protested vehemently before until finally allowing Abigail to lead her out of the room. They with the bounce of black curls and sway of their hips. Tally meandered over to one of the few remaining couches, her thoughts buzzing chaotically.

“May I interest you in a drink?” A woman with dark eyes and dark skin set a glass in front of her, paired with a kind smile. “I’m Anacostia Quartermaine,” the woman introduced herself. She wore a military uniform and had a slit in a single eyebrow. “General Quartermaine, of course;” Tally gave the woman a small bobbing bow from her seat, flushed with terror. Anacostia Quartermaine ran the war efforts against the Russian and Chinese forces intruding against the Tarim. A nomadic group of magicians that held secrets dating back to the grand days of Prague.

“No need to bow, it’s a celebration day.” The General chuckled, “I only came over here because you looked like you needed company.”

“Oh, thank you.” Tally accepted the offered drink and took a small sip. Her attempts to appear unassuming had failed, the sweat was now collecting on the palms of her hands causing the glass to slip ever so slightly. “So, what’s your name? I don’t think I saw you at the Raising Ceremony with all the other apprentices.”

Tally’s smile became even more strained, she felt as though her teeth were about to crack under the pressure of her clenched jaw. “I was promoted before the others, it was a private ceremony.”

“I never heard about a private ceremony, those are only granted on very rare occasions and need approval by the President or Vice President.” Quartermaine’s words had clear suspicion tinging them. Her previously jovial gaze now held a hint of steel, Tally gulped.

“We are the Spree!” A man shouted, his proclamation broke Quartermaine’s train of thought, and Tally's cover story immediately. Tally turned to watch the originator of the shout, a boy of her age with blonde hair and wild eyes, throw a sphere with a large magical aura around it. Tally could feel the power of it in her bones as her eyes widened and she was pulled off the couch by a beast with large claws and horns. The howling of the wind and a small vacuum ripped through the apartment scattering the many people in attendance. 

The explosion rocked the apartment, glass shattered along with tables and electronic devices. Her ears rang, the sound boring into her skull as she inhaled the faint scent of honey and sulfur that emanated from the demon protecting her. The wild blue eyes of the boy appeared behind her eyelids, the way his face was slack, the words he spoke a dull shout without conviction.

As her hearing came back and the dust settled, Tally was released from the demon’s grasp. The monster backed away with shuffling feet and a snort eerily similar to the bull he was representing. “Thank you, Garron,” Anacostia dismissed her servant, watching the beast disappear with the faint scent of lemons left behind. Tally turned to Anacostia, stunned. “I-“ Anacostia raised a hand, halting Tally’s sentence. “No time, I have to go look for witnesses. Anyone that saw the attacker, or who might know them.”

“I saw him,” the words left Tally’s mouth before she could stop them. She winced, _stupid,_ her mother’s voice chattered in her subconscious. If she became a government witness for a terrorist attack she’d never be left alone. “Do you know who he was?”

Tally shook her head, unable to answer the question. Screaming was beginning to flow up through the streets as dread built up within Tally’s chest. Both Anacostia and Tally ran towards the balcony and surveyed the skyline around them. Multiple buildings had smoke rising from them, or ice crusting over the majestic jut of their architecture. A mist of glass was raining down upon the crowd below that streamed away from the main street in a panic. One of the floats was on fire, a large aura was moving away through the scene. Tally could see the glow from where she stood, looking down on the people below. “There's something powerful there,” Tally pointed downwards, her finger following the vivid trail. Anacostia gave her a bewildered look but clapped and summoned her servant to pursue the lead anyway.

Both women turned to survey the damage. The occupants of the room around them were strewn about almost lazily. Bodies were scattered about, some of them sporting cuts and bruises. One of them appeared to had their bones snapped, one man’s head was turned at a strange angle. Tally felt as though she was going to be sick. “Glory,” Tally called out in a panic. She spun around to find her friend but Anacostia’s hand settled firmly on her shoulder, holding her in place. “I understand you want to look for people but we have business to attend to.” 

“I have to find Glory,” Tally disregarded the General’s hand and attempted to push past but Anacostia stood in her way again. “If you have any information on the attacker you saw, we’re going to need your testimony. I’m also curious as to how you were able to see a supposed signature from the top of a building.”

“But – “

“No but’s, you have a duty to your country and –“ footsteps sounded from the entryway of the apartment. Tally watched as Raelle and a boy wearing a purple suit sprinted into the room, panting. “What happened? We felt the wind sphere from my apartment.” Raelle exclaimed between each struggling breath. “We had a Spree attack, this woman here saw the attacker of this building and managed to trace a magic signature from a fifth-floor balcony,” Anacostia answered.

“Tally? Yeah, she’s gifted like that;” Raelle sputtered. “Why are you so out of breath?” Anacostia demanded to know, confounded by the gasping of the pair. “We had to run down the stairs, the elevators stopped working.”

“How’d you get out?” Tally asked, surprised. “That would be me,” a lizard appeared upon Raelle’s shoulder. Tally looked at the lizard with wide eyes, studying the reptile. “Hey, do I have something on my face kid?” The demon jibed. “No, it’s just I haven’t ever seen a talking gecko,” Tally replied.

“What kind of disguises are your djinn using?” The lizard laughed, Raelle shushed her servant and offered Tally an apologetic look. “Sorry, he likes to talk;” Raelle said. “Try to be nice Bart,” Raelle admonished her scaly companion. The creature, named Bart, huffed. “Fine, never say I don’t do anything for you.”

“You do practically everything,” Raelle chuckled. “Yeah, well at least you admit it;” The demon grumbled back. Tally watched the exchange between the pair with a suppressed smile, Raelle looked almost happy when talking to the demon. “We need to get Tally here, to HQ;” Anacostia ordered. Raelle nodded in understanding. “Fine, but at least let her look for her friend real quick.” Anacostia groaned at the blonde girl’s demand but nodded reluctantly. “Fine, you have five minutes.”

Tally found Glory rather easily after that, Miranda’s arm was broken but Glory looked mostly unscathed outside of some drywall dusting her hair and dress. Tally whispered goodbye to her friend, requesting for her mother to be alerted in case anything should happen. She had never seen eye to eye with all of her mother’s paranoia, but she still loved and cared for the woman. This was far from the goodbye Tally would have sought.

She was promptly spirited away via djinn soon after her goodbyes to Glory. Arriving at the doors to the main Manhattan government building, Tally was guided into an elevator and down a dimly lit corridor. The architecture was smooth and unreadable. A liminal space that rejected the passage of time as fluorescent lightbulbs flickered in their casings above. The ceilings were a plain white, the floors a solid grey. The walls were a dark and shining background, interspaced with sconces of flickering light, disguised as fire.

Tally could see herself in the shining black walls, her hair was in slight disarray and she appeared worried. She felt worried too. Anacostia waited beside her as Raelle met with President Alder, they both entered the room with equally drawn expressions. Raelle’s hid a hint of boredom behind a mask of cold civility. The gecko on her shoulder shrunk, becoming a beetle.

Tally was directed into the room soon after the President’s entrance, her eyes meeting those of Abigail and the girl she had seen Abigail drag after her. She waved shyly at the room’s occupants. All of their eyes were unsettling masks of cunning and intrigue that she dreaded being on the receiving end of. A knock on the door sounded and all the eyes moved from her to the door.

“Come in,” President Alder said grimly, the doorknob rattled slightly and in strode two women, each pale and serious in demeanor. “And in stride’s death incarnate,” Tally heard Abigail mutter venomously. Scylla and Secretary Isadora took their places at a large table strewn with maps, all of which glowed with a magical aura as the lines moved from one page to another. Living maps.

“One hundred confirmed dead, many more wounded;” Isadora informed the group of women. A collective groan filled the room, each member of the president’s cabinet pulled up a chair as if out of nowhere. Tally stood awkwardly among them, her hands fidgeting slightly.

“What happened out there?” Alder asked her thinly veiled fury was unsettling as her eyes bore into each one of their faces. “A resistance attack, they used a multitude of elemental spheres to create havoc across the city,” Anacostia explained. She added details about the state of buildings and the people around her within her briefing. “We were lucky enough to be hit by a wind sphere instead of a fire sphere, there were a couple dead but at least the building didn’t catch fire.”

“The New York Fire Department is currently working on putting out the blaze Madame President,” Isadora informed her superior. “Until they are done, we won’t know the total number of deceased. The first number I gave you was of those that died immediately and were found upon first glance. Many fell from great heights or were killed in the initial blast. Rather quick death’s.”

“It seems they were targeting the civilians, most of the casualties were of non-magician stock. Commoners;” Scylla added unhappily.

“Why so many commoners?” Raelle inquired.

“They were clearly trying to target magician parties or else they wouldn’t have shown up where we were;” Anacostia exclaimed. “Civilians most likely got the brunt of the attack because they have weaker defenses, they’ll try harder next time.”

“I don't want a next time. I want each one of you to have a djinn of the third level or higher starting tonight, got it;” Alder ordered. Each woman nodded in understanding. “I also want to know what kind of people we’re looking for. You,” the president turned on Tally. The redhead felt her heart stutter with fear as the president’s blue eyes pierced her brown ones. “What did the attacker look like and where did you see the magical trail going?”

“Also, how can you spot magical trails from so far away, I’ve never heard of you. You shouldn’t have that strong of a gift,” Anacostia’s words drew more eyes to Tally. She could feel her face growing flushed, her hands were clammy. “I – “

“It doesn’t matter how she saw it, only that she did. Let’s focus on that;” Scylla’s voice broke through Tally’s panic, allowing her to breathe.

“I saw a boy about my age, he had blonde hair that was a little curly and blue eyes. He was wearing a pale blue, almost grey suit.”

“Porter?” Raelle said in disbelief. “That sounds like Porter.”

“Isadora, get me records on this boy named Porter.” Isadora nodded towards the president before turning to leave the room quickly. “Scylla, you’re adept at gathering foreign intelligence. Let’s see you work your magic on the home front. I want you with Raelle, both of you are bright and top apprentices of your year. I want results, quickly.” Both girls nodded, their eyes meeting briefly before flickering away.

“Abigail and Libba, you’ll be running support for Raelle and Scylla. I also want all of you on guard duty over Tally here.” The President’s eyes settled on Tally once more, “I don’t know where you came from, and I don’t particularly care, yet. However, if you have such strong sight we need to put that to use. Whatever your past may be, we might overlook it if you serve us well.”

Tally couldn’t help the astonishment that rang through her, the idea of being pardoned was a practical godsend. “Of course madame president,” Tally stated with as much gratitude as she could muster. “All of you girls out, I have more to discuss. Raelle, I will have your demon stay here so he can inform you later.” The beetle hopped off Raelle’s shoulder and onto the tabletop, its wings fluttering frantically before settling. “See ya Bart,” Raelle said in farewell. Tally followed them out, their footsteps echoing as they filed out of the briefing room and into the cool hallway.

“Well that was fun,” Abigail quipped.

“What, scared of a challenge Bedwetter,” Libba sneered, she stepped closer to Abigail daringly. “In your dreams you spider abortion,” Abigail wisecracked, she towered over the other girl as they both glowered at one another. “Calm down you simpletons, I swear you’ll give me a headache;” Scylla snapped, unimpressed with their bickering.

…

Raelle watched the girls squabble amongst each other, hesitant to take control of the situation. Scylla was a wild card she was not expecting. The truth was she had met the girl, she simply had never learned her name. If she was correct, Scylla was, in fact, the girl she had met upon her new apprenticeship.

“I know you don’t I?” Scylla smirked at Raelle knowingly, she had stepped away from the twitterings of Abigail and Libba. Her familiar blue eyes bore into Raelle's, their depths sparking with something she couldn't quite put a finger on. “You were there when I was made Alder’s new apprentice,” Raelle stated. “Oh yeah, you had long hair;” Scylla recounted. 

“You were taller then,” Raelle countered. Scylla laughed, her smile stretching into her cheeks and widening her eyes. “I’m taller than you right now.”

“You’re wearing heels,” Raelle retorted, unconvinced.

“Glad to see you’re doing better,” Scylla said, her tone sounded almost wistful as her mind wandered into their shared past. “I didn’t know your name was Scylla,” Raelle admitted. “Well now you do,” Scylla replied, not unkindly. “Did you ever manage to live a little?” Scylla’s question was tinted with a light curiosity, attempting to be unassuming. “Did you ever manage to find a way out?” Raelle’s reply was equally cryptic, but both of them shared a long lost understanding.

“Maybe I did,” Scylla’s smile was small yet content, their stare intense.

“Show me?”

Scylla nodded before leaning in to whisper, “Later” in Raelle’s ear.

A beetle flew out of the room and onto Raelle’s shoulder, hissing orders into her ear with a choice set of expletives, breaking the two apart. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us,” Raelle said to the group. They all nodded, even Tally. It was time to start digging up the truth about this resistance cell called The Spree, and Bartimaeus had just told them where to start.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scylla's loyalties are a mystery. The team is called in to discover just what they're up against.

Scylla Ramshorn was many things and a coward was not one of them. She had been the top apprentice of her year and her career showed it. While others her age were distracted by the ostentation and decadence of their lovely and fair government, Scylla focused. She studied. Her master called her “Delightfully pragmatic,” a compliment Scylla took with a small smile and heightened productivity. She was nothing if not effective. After all, how else was she to gain their trust?

Scylla had been born into the Ramshorn family, Jakob and Alice. A wonderful couple, supposedly. Yet all their power and gravitas meant little in the face of a simple “No Children” policy. Scylla ground her teeth together in fermented frustration. The demise of her parents was not the subject to focus on at the moment, she had work to do.

A mist collected around the room as a figure collected its essence in the central pentacle. Scylla herself sat unaffected before it, the guise it had chosen was little more than a specter. Nothing compared to the nightmares that plagued her. “Alfos,” she greeted the demon politely. He was a demi-afrit, she had found the name in one of the many books she had collected, supposedly he played some small part in the Trojan war. The afrit rose menacingly within his circle, his voice was deep and held an echoing quality. “It is I, what do you seek – “

“You can skip the flowery language, I’m asking for a status report on Porter;” Scylla dismissed the afrit’s monotonous droning. She was eager to get to the point. The Afrit solidified itself into a large muscular man with an eagle’s head. A golden eye peered at her disdainfully. “He was dealt with accordingly,” the demon said. His voice was rougher now, a deep rasp. “He won’t be found?” Scylla was hardly eager for her ex’s body to resurface. “Bottom of the East River,” Alfos drawled. The birdman assessed his cuticles, changing their color from black to white, red to yellow.

“Good, they have an entire task force out looking for The Spree, we can’t have anything surfacing until I fulfill my latest mission.”

“Which is?” Alfos sighed, boredom apparent in his tone.

Scylla smiled.

...

Abigail was on the precipice of stardom, she could feel it. The scent of victory was palpable as she arrived at Raelle’s apartment, a latte in hand. Their task force had been given jurisdiction over all the resistance investigations, stretching from matters of homeland security to abroad. Abigail could practically taste the power at their fingertips, the elevation of her career felt inevitable.

“Castor,” Abigail’s demon Castor was a willful and prideful thing. Where he first had cause to haughtily address any imp that flashed an offensive color at him, Abigail had trained him otherwise. Demons were volatile and malicious creatures that magicians had to handle with great caution. A lesson Abigail had learned early on from her master. “Remember, demons will take any opportunity to maim, trick, or possess you. Look at what happened in London during the demon uprising and the fall of the British Magicians. Their last great magician, John Mandrake, fell through sacrifice, the rest were greedy and small-minded. Filled with hubris and weakened by the trickery of the demons they thought to control.”

While John Mandrake was hardly an important figure in American history, his deeds were a lesson for all magicians on the threat demons posed. “The British got cocky, arrogant. They forgot the malignity of their servants and thus suffered the consequences.” Her master had stated with the utmost disdain towards the creatures they controlled.

America would not make that same mistake. Magicians were required to have at least one magical talent: The ability to see magical objects, see demons without special aid or resist magical aggression. Through these requirements, the Magicians of America hoped to stay ahead of the nefarious plots of the Other Side.

The talent Abigail had was resistance, while she could hardly detect the magical level of objects or see demons in their true form, she had a special kind of endurance in the face of magic. Demonic powers were less potent, if at all effective. She took pride in her ability, allowing it to boost her will against the ilk of Castor. Enthralled by the idea no being could possess or harm her.

Abigail knocked on the wooden black door leading to Raelle's home. Her knuckles rapped smartly on the painted mahogany. “Come in!” A boy’s voice exclaimed excitedly. Abigail turned the knob and peered in, a well-tanned and good looking boy stood idly by assessing his nails. He wore a bomber jacket and a Cheshire cat smile, his teeth were filed to points. “Don’t scare her Bartimaeus,” Raelle called from the living room. She stood over a stereo system, drink in hand. Her blue eyes were focused on a large collection of CDs. “Like a lowly being such as him could scare me,” Abigail scoffed.

Bartimaeus watched the girl shuffle into the room, petulant and haughty. Her expression and jutting lower lip reminded him of someone he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I’d never dare to scare a great magician of America,” Bartimaeus pretend simpered, Abigail’s nose turned up in irate superiority. Bartimaeus sighed, even the most decent master frolicked with the dredges of their kind.

Tally was sitting idly on the couch, staring at a blank television screen, lost in thought. Abigail approached the chair adjacent to the tan upholstered couch and settled into it. “Tally, it’s good to see you’re doing well;” Abigail said in way of conversation. “Oh, yeah;” Tally replied, almost absentmindedly. She had barely paid attention to the girl’s entrance, the sudden conversation was the last thing on her mind.

“Who are we waiting on? Swythe here yet or is she flaking on her responsibilities?” Abigail’s words are punctuated by the opening of a door and clicking of heels as Libba strode in. “Sorry to disappoint you Bedwetter, but unlike you, I arrived on time.”

“I arrived right on time, we all agreed on ten hundred hours,” Abigail retorted.

“On time is late last I checked,” Libba snapped back.

“Doesn’t matter what time you got here, we are still waiting on Scylla,” Raelle deadpanned, her back remained turned towards them. The incessant clicking of the CD cases filled the room. A bird settled onto her shoulder and began having a hissed discussion with her in Sumerian. Abigail rolled her eyes at the blonde girl’s secrecy, Tally continued to stare blankly at the television as a crease deepened between her brows.

“Alright, sorry I’m here,” Scylla grumbled as she swept into the room. She wore a military jacket and black polished boots. “You mean sorry you’re late,” Abigail corrected the girl with a deep scowl. One that was fondly met with a faked smile and rude hand gesture. “Coffee Raelle?” Scylla set a cup down on the table and pushed it forward. Raelle turned and accepted the cup, a small smile peeking out behind tired eyes. “Thanks, can’t say I’ve slept much;” Raelle groaned.

Scylla watched Raelle take a small sip from the cup before setting it on the maple wood table. “So what’s the sitch?” Scylla drawled. The girl leaned heavily on the arm of the couch closest to Raelle, coffee in hand while he other rested in her lap. Her toes pressed against the floor, her bottom situated on the tip of the sofa’s arm. Tally sat beside her, head turned up to look out the nearest window.

“Well, Tally was able to identify Porter so now we need to look for his body. It hasn’t turned up which suggests he may have survived.” Raelle said.

“My Master wants boots on the ground turning up everything we can get on rogue magicians, she also wants investigations into Internal Affairs. She thinks we have a rat;” Abigail said the last part with a formidable amount of venom. Libba met the Bellweather’s glare with equal ferocity and contempt.

“Anacostia is looking into everyone’s department right now,” Raelle responded indifferently. “Scylla what do you think?”

“How do you know for sure it was Porter? I heard tell that there were foreign interests in this case." 

“Tally saw him, right Tal?” Abigail exclaimed. The entire group’s eyes settled on Tally who visibly shrank for a moment as her attention turned to the group.

“Yeah, a tall boy with blonde curly hair and blue eyes. They had a demon take his likeness from pictures and it was him;” Tally said.

“Are you sure, maybe you didn’t see right;” Scylla suggested. Tally frowned, indignant. “I know what I saw.” She stated resolutely.

“What about the magic trail down the fifth and ninth avenue? How’d you see that from a balcony?” Scylla said skeptically. Tally bristled at the question and tone of superiority. The redhead rose to the full height available in her seat and glared upwards at Scylla’s ice-blue stare. “I know what I saw,” she enunciated definitively. She didn’t like the high and mighty attitude that people sometimes got about her sight, she knew what she saw and she was hardly ever wrong. It was one of the few magical talents allowed her, the one thing her mother couldn’t take from her.

“Porter’s identity and the magical remnants aren’t what’s in question at the moment, we already obtained confirmation from djinn and the Night police anyway;” Raelle said diplomatically. “What we need to figure out is what it is and how to track it.”

“They narrowed the magical trace down to several artifacts that have made it through customs recently,” Libba chimed in, her official tone was smart and spotless. Each word carefully articulated, displaying the intelligence within. The girl listed a copious amount of magical objects in alphabetical order, each one was listed with their shipping number and date of arrival along with the company that handled the order. Abigail reluctantly listened to her rival, eager to pick out the object of debatable power.

A cough broke Libba’s stream of information, all heads swiveled to look at the demon that made the utterance. Bartimaeus grinned almost apologetically, a smug cast nonetheless shining through his twinkling eyes. He had returned to the shape of the boy, leaning casually upon Raelle's shoulder. “Did you say Book of Thoth?”

“Do you know it?” Raelle inquired. The demon’s grin widened, his teeth remained menacing points. “Know it, I practically helped deliver it to its Tomb.”

“Would a book really carry that much magical energy in it though?” Libba asked, her intense gaze locked on Bartimaeus suspiciously. “Speak demon, reveal what you know;” Abigail demanded to which the djinn let out a hearty laugh. “Listen, kid, you don’t give me the orders around here.”

“Raelle, control your slave lest I have Castor teach him a lesson;” Abigail sneered derisively, Castor's form swelled slightly in pride as each djinn assessed one another. Bartimaeus opened his mouth to retort but was quickly cut off by the cold tones of Raelle. “Don’t call him that,” she said quietly. Her voice was low with veiled indignation on behalf of her friend. “What else do you call a demon,” Abigail derided. Raelle opened her mouth to retort but was quickly cut off by Libba, “As much as I’d enjoy watching Bedwetter get reamed, can someone explain the importance of the book. We have a task at hand.”

Raelle and Abigail clamped their jaws shut. Bartimaeus continued. “The Book of Thoth has a long series of incantations pertaining to the elite beings that inspired Egyptian mythology. They’ve basically manifested themselves as gods in your world while their essence itself is threaded into everything that makes the Other Side, the Other Side.”

“And this means?” Scylla sighed.

“Total annihilation of any being that opposes the casters if any one of these, practical, gods is summoned,” Bartimaeus informed them cheerily.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Abigail sneered.

“For your information, I actually like Raelle. It’d be a shame to watch her become monster chow. However, I would be lying if I said I wouldn't be delighted to watch your earthy and prickly form be munched on by an oversized reality blip.” Bartimaeus said snidely.

“If it’s just incantations though why does the book itself contain a signature?” Libba queried.

Bartimaeus shrugged, “That’s easy. It's called The Book of Thoth for a reason, they sealed him in there." 


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bartimaeus has his say. Tally learns a thing or two. Abigail and Libba bond.

Bartimaeus’s old friend Thoth, well friend was putting it judiciously, was a wise old spirit that barely gave anyone the time of day. Bartimaeus had been no more than a flea to Thoth’s very, very, very large dog. While the greater spirit favored the head of a bird and took an overly abundant amount of joy in human history and affairs, he hardly considered the djinn to be much more than the occasional gnat he could strike a conversation with. While the Egyptians had Bartimaeus laying overly large bricks, Thoth would sometimes flit around like an oversized falcon.

His essence shivered with the memories of desert sun and silver whips. Raelle felt the subtle shift and turned to look at her companion. Of course, he had taken his old friend, Ptolemy’s, form. He was a good looking boy, the djinn had simply raised him in height and clothed himself in what was considered modern fashion. Out with the old fashioned cuffs of Nathaniel’s day, and on to the slimmer and cleaner looks brought to you by your daily oppressors.

The Bellweather and Swythe girl looked at him with a mixture of derision and vague disbelief, their “mightier than thou” attitudes grated on his nerves. Truly, the dregs of magicians in this day and age. Of course, he had seen the pattern. Unrest in the commoners and government, the unbalance of power, the overly grandiose aggression by an unforeseen force. America was about to fall and it was going to hurt.

He could only hope that he could avoid Raelle’s final moments, Nat’s had been hard enough. Sometimes he still wondered whether the boy understood everything Bartimaeus had thought of him before he went. “If we’re looking at an end of times demon, I’ll need you to tell Alder Bart;” Raelle said. Bartimaeus took the request with a sigh and a light pat to the kid’s shoulder. The girl was getting thinner, slight bags were beginning to form under her eyes. She would have to dismiss him soon, recharge a little. “I’ll be right back kid,” the djinn said with a small wave. Bartimaeus would have to talk to her later about overdoing things. Kids these days need to learn how to relax.

…

Tally watched the boy turn into a bird and go, swooping out of the window that Raelle pushed open for it. She had been in Raelle’s apartment for days now, no contact with the outside world. Anacostia Quartermaine had called Tally the government’s “secret weapon” because of her “unforeseen talent at sight.” A title she took willingly enough if it meant her mother stayed far away from a lethal injection needle. The girls discussed important government mandates in hushed voices, occasionally switching between languages foreign to Tally’s ears.

Sometimes they would reference her in a sentence but the words attached made little to no sense, or they’d speak English in front of her pertaining to a question before quickly switching back to something akin to ancient Greek. Tally waited morosely on the couch as the four magicians milled about the apartment discussing The Spree, Tally, and the Book of Thoth. The sun moved sluggishly across the sky, the light beams of the sun shone brightly between the gaps of the New York City skyline. Abigail was the first to rise, eager to be off, followed by Libba. By the time Scylla and Raelle had begun talking in hushed tones to each other Bartimaeus was back with an update on Alder’s opinions.

“Hey Tally, would you mind staying here with Bart while Scylla and I go check out the crime scene?” Raelle’s request is a polite one, but Tally knows her own opinion will have no influence on the outcome. “Yeah sure,” Tally agreed. Raelle nodded and grabbed her coat, opening the door for Scylla as they left.

“Five bucks on them getting together,” The djinn chuckled, he was back to being a boy. This time instead of a teenager with olive skin he chose a pale complexion and a mane of black hair that flopped into his eyes. Tally looked at the demon shyly at first, finally, curiosity got the better of her. “What makes you choose that form? Why does it look familiar?”

The demon chuckled, “This here is the form of the one and only John Mandrake, although I knew him as Nat.” Tally blinked in astonishment, thousands of questions springing to mind. “Why him? Did he really banish Nouda by himself?”

The djinn stood, a fond look overcoming him as his eyes misted over with the fog of the past. “Yeah, he did dismiss Nouda, admittedly with my help but we were the same at the time.”

“What happened?” Tally asked, her interest was apparent in the way she held herself. Leaning in towards the demon as she stared at him with eyes of wonderment. “Don’t they teach you this stuff in magician school?” Tally pursed her lips and scuffed her toe against the ground. “I’m not a magician,” she muttered.

“What’s that? I didn’t quite catch it.” Bartimaeus said, cupping a hand over an ear. Tally rolled her eyes for a second, rocking in her seat. “I’m not a magician okay,” she grumbled. Bartimaeus assessed the girl carefully, the innocence of her expressions, and the fumbling way in which she held herself made her lack of tutelage quite obvious. “Right, Raelle mentioned something about you being a dodger.”

Tally nodded, “My mom didn’t want me to be a magician. She said they’re selfish and terrible people.”

Bartimaeus laughed, his entire being shook with it. “She’s kinda right, your mom. All you people learn is how to lie and create utter chaos in your quest for power and glory. I’ve never met a single person who’s not trying to grow their power and status in some way.” The demon faltered, “Well, with one exception.”

“John Mandrake?” Tally guessed. Bartimaeus shook with laughter once more, shaking the image of John Mandrake’s head between deep throated chuckles. “This lout?” No, he was one of the worst. Power-hungry before he was even a full magician. He’s just lucky in that some of his few shining moments are memorable to the general populace.”

“Who then?” Tally inquired.

“Raelle,” The djinn answered simply, “She’s alright for a magician. No plans of moving on up in society really, although she does get up to her own stuff. Can’t say that I have an interest in what’s happening right now, but I trust her.” The demon paused as if lost in thought for a second. “Her plans might be considered ambitious by some, but I think she’ll turn out okay. Or at least leagues better than that Bellweather girl, ugh. Did you see the ego on that?” Bartimaeus’s tone quickly turned to a light teasing, nothing left of his vague fondness and worry.

“Magicians help the government work, elsewise the commoners would fall to other magical nations;” Tally said, the words were a lesson taught early in grade school. The demon shook his head, “Commoners don’t get enough credit. Without them, you guys would crumble, same for the likes of my kind. Take demons and commoners out of the equation and your magicians have no one left to manipulate.”

Tally is surprised by the amount of bitterness that poured from Bartimaeus’s mouth. While her mother always despised magicians, everyone else in life had commended the elite group that ruled their nation. In fact, she had always thought her mother to be a tad overly zealous in her disdain. “So what do you want?” Tally’s question seemed to take the djinn by surprise, his eyebrows disappeared into the curtain of hair draped over his forehead. 

“What do I want?” The demon paused, finger on his chin, he assessed her imperiously for a moment. “You’re really not much of a magician are you?”

“Hey, I can summon some things;” Tally argued. Bartimaeus peered at her incredulously. “Sure kid, like what?”

Tally pouted slightly, her eyes downcast as she began to fiddle with the fabric of her pants. They were short on her and worn. She had borrowed them from Raelle, who’s stature was much smaller than her own. “Imp,” she muttered sullenly. Bartimaeus let out a snort and leaned back in his seat across from her.

“Hardly full magician’s work, maybe that of an apprentice but undeserving of the title.” The demon hesitated for a second, “I mean this is the most respectful way possible of course. Magicians are terrible people.”

Tally’s puckered expression seemed to catch the djinn’s attention as he scrambled to string his next placating sentence together. “Don’t take it in a bad way Tally, that’s your name right?”

“You seem to have some semblance of respectability in you and that’s an impressive feat for any one of your kind. I think you should celebrate that.” Tally’s moping did not let up. Bartimaeus continued, “Look, don’t give me that pouty face. It won’t work, I’m a centuries-old djinn of great power, hardly likely to be bested by the likes of a random redheaded girl.”

…

Raelle traipsed back into her apartment. Scylla had left to inform her superiors of their latest discoveries. Upon entering her foyer she was encountered with a curious sight. Bartimaeus was crouched over Tally’s shoulder, arms crossed as they poured over a book on pentacles. “Pentacles are basic summoning circles, they’re used to bind my kind to a magician’s will. Usually, we’ll search for any small weakness in your summoning circle to kill you, but since you seem like a sweet kid I’m offering you a word of advice: never screw up your pronunciation or line work.”

“Saw a downright buttercup looking fellow get swallowed up by an afrit of sorts, had multiple arms. Similar to the style of the Hindu magicians.” Raelle continued to watch as Bartimaeus persisted in his instruction.

“There are many classes of “demons” as you people like to call us, an insult if you ask me, but we all vary in power. Imps and foliots are minor beings, they can take on disguises within the first and second planes. Sometimes third.”

“Planes, like the different levels of reality?” Tally exclaimed, Bartimaeus let slip a small smile and nodded.

“Exactly,” he pointed to a line of text in a book, “The pentacle binds us to this world and your will through an incantation containing our true name. They come in many languages and lengths, some are long and flowery, and some lack complexity. Such as the summoning of an Imp.”

The djinn’s finger moved once more. “Each being type is tied to an element. Imps and foliots tend to be creatures of the earth, along with moulers. Spirits such as me and that nasty fellow the Bellweather girl was employing, are spirits of air or fire. Many afrits are beings of fire as well, that being one of the more volatile elements.”

“What about water,” Tally inquired. Bartimaeus shrugged, “Haven’t really met any, my guess is it’s one of the marids that are so rarely summoned.” Bartimaeus allowed Tally to turn the page, observing the girl’s wandering eyes as they surveyed the pages of the cumbersome tome. Raelle couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, raising her cheeks and crinkling the corners of her eyes. Bartimaeus may posture and bluster, but he had no real bite to him. Raelle had learned that a long time ago.

…

Abigail sat across from Libba grimly, nursing a cup of coffee. The shorter girl assessed her with a slight awkwardness. They had never had a civil conversation in their life and now they were waiting idly in a coffee shop together. They had both had a long night, a very eventful, interesting night. “So, are we going to talk about it,” Libba murmured. Her eyes barely rose above the coffee cup, a sign of weakness Abigail would ordinarily take advantage of but now let slide.

She did not want to talk about it. She, in fact, had no intention of talking about it, after all, what do you do when you’re locked into a permanent secret with your mortal enemy. “We say nothing,” Abigail stated firmly. Libba sighed, “Fine. I’ll follow your lead, but only because I don’t know what to do otherwise.”

“Good,” Abigail replied curtly.

“Good,” Libba offered Abigail a familiar derisive smile before turning her head to look out the café window. “Let’s just hope no one else finds out.”


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail and Libba hatch a plan. Anacostia is on the trail of a dangerous djinn. Raelle and Scylla begin a dangerous game.

A slight chill filled the room as the air was pumped through the vents above. Abigail sat with her legs crossed at the table, as far away from Libba as she could manage. They both resolutely stared in opposing directions, their lips puckered and jaws clenched. Secretary Buttonwood was reiterating the events of their last festival, his voice a droning tenor. Gerit sat behind his master, casually leaning in his chair as he whispered to one of the junior assistants of Education.

They had been through countless briefings together, as apprentices to society’s elite their attendance was practically mandatory. A feat that Abigail and Libba were apt to participate in proudly and often loudly. They were the crème a la crème. Honorary members of the President’s Cabinet, steeped in responsibility and prestige. Now they sat awkwardly in their seats, awaiting the onslaught that would be their own briefing. Abigail was far from thrilled.

Libba and Abigail had gone on to investigate by themselves the day prior, unwilling to let any evidence or information slip through the clumsy fingers of the other. Between bitter remarks and creative insults, they managed to peruse the New York Subway System, following the trail of magical energy that Libba’s informants had pinpointed. What followed next was less than satisfactory decorum when Libba stumbled and accused Abigail of tripping her.

They had argued in a side passage that led to a back alley, yelling at each other as their voices bounced throughout the tunnels. After a long tirade of verbal abuse, Libba pushed Abigail against a wall with surprising strength. The sudden presence of a stone-cold wall was a little surprising for the taller girl. Abigail's mind began to wonder, the events of the previous night spinning about her head tantalizingly. 

“Abigail, your report please,” the entire Presidential Cabinet was turned towards her. Her old master’s lips were pursed and a single eyebrow was raised in disapproval. Libba flashed an anxious glance in Abigail’s direction as they both rose from their seats. The first look they had shared since the incident, “Yes Madame President,” Abigail started. “We were perusing the subway tunnels and we found a maintenance shaft that the trail ended in.”

“Did you find the artifact?” Secretary Swythe inquired.

“No ma’am, but we did discover a small cell of resistance fighters,” Libba replied. A collective sigh rose from the gathered magicians, Libba continued.

“We think we can gain their trust, right now they think we’re just ordinary people.”

“What makes you think that?” Petra Bellweather asked, her stare laid heavily on her old apprentice. Abigail gulped. “We convinced them, they don’t know we’re magicians. They just know Libba has sight, but we convinced them that we’re dodgers.”

“How’d you two do that?” Raelle exclaimed surprise painted her face as she assessed the awkward shift of both girls in question.

“They might be under the impression that Libba and I were" Abigail hesitated for a moment, "very close and accidentally stumbled onto their gathering.”

Raelle’s face was one of utter glee, her eyes bright with mischief and suppressed laughter. “And how’d they get that idea?”

“That’s beside the point Collar, we have an in with a resistance cell and I think we should take it;” Libba said, interrupting Raelle’s stream of questions. Petra and Madelyn nodded in agreement before turning towards the President. “Libba and Abigail are new to the full responsibility of their titles but their names have not extended very far past the echelons of high society. If the resistance cell has had their interest piqued, why not use that?” Petra suggested. Alder tilted her head from one side to the other, her blue eyes were chilling in their detachment. “I’ll allow it, but I want you handling this personally,” Alder’s orders were directed at Petra and Madelyn both. Each woman nodded grimly, they knew that if this operation failed it would be on their heads.

Raelle waited for Abigail outside of the meeting room, her eyes alight with amusement. “So what made them think you were just two horny teenagers?” Raelle asked with every hint of glibness she could muster. Abigail groaned, “It was nothing okay!”

“Then why’d they think you were dating?” Raelle persisted in her interrogation. Abigail ignored the shorter woman, spotting Libba striding down the hallway. “Sorry Collar gotta discuss the game plan for our operation,” she said before swiftly making her exit.

…

Anacostia had been here before. Not specifically here but it was still the same nonetheless. Every dump sight was the same.

The room was dark, the scent of sewage filled the air along with the perfume of death and decay. Anacostia had lived past the time where she felt the need to wrinkle her nose in disgust. Garron, her djinn, stood disguised as a portly man wearing a bowler hat on the first two planes. On the remaining five he took the appearance of a rhinoceros standing upon its haunches. “I found the remains miss, or what’s left of them anyway;” the demon said in an almost nasal tone. “Show me the way,” Anacostia directed, the portly man pointed.

The body was in shambles, segments of it were missing, probably floating along the currents in one of New York’s Rivers. It had been a long time since Anacostia had served in the intelligence department. Her commission in the military had been followed by swift promotion and piling of awards and accolades. “I want a demon that has been employed by the victim to come forth and assist in the identification,” Anacostia demanded. Increased activity occurred as the aids and criminal investigation units milled about the scene. One of the techs grimly lifted the remaining portion of Porter’s head, the eyes were mostly rotted away. The many veins and skin that made up his appearance were stretched and ripped as though he had been pulled apart with tremendous force.

“Do you think that’s enough to identify him by?” A detective of the NYPD inquired. He was a civilian, no magical ability or promise. “It will have to do until your team does a full DNA test,” Anacostia said, she was distracted by the aura about the head. A lingering mist swirling about the remains, it was strong. “A demon got him,” Anacostia exclaimed.

“What makes you say that?” The detective snorted.

“The traces of magical taint, only a demon could have done so much damage,” the General’s assessment left a bitter taste in the detective’s mouth. The unseeing eye was unsettling at best. “Sergeant,” he called. A lean man wearing a policeman’s uniform and carrying a nightstick jogged over, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “Bag it and tag it,” the detective said gruffly before turning away to look at anything else.

“Do you know any demons that liked to tear their victims apart Garron?” Anacostia questioned her sullen servant. The portly man shrugged, “There are a couple. I know Neimenes burns his, likes them charred.”

“I didn’t ask about burns, I asked about demons that rip their victims to shreds;” Anacostia enunciated with utmost urgency. “Don’t get yourself out of sorts about it, there was a bloke I remember.” Garron assuaged his master. “We called him Alfie, short for Alfos.”

“Thank you, Garron, I’ll go easy on the stipples for your impertinence.”

Garron gulped.

…

The park was a lovely place at night. A wonderful place to people watch as civilians milled about in delighted ignorance. Raelle sat upon a park bench, her boots settled firmly on the ground as she slouched in her seat and craned her neck upwards. She was waiting for Byron, the boy had been eager to share a hot dog and catch up.

“Can't miss out on what’s happening in your life now that you’re working with Scylla,” The boy had hissed conspiratorially. Byron approached, walking briskly with two hot dogs clutched in his hand, a bottle of wine in the other.

“Took your sweet time,” Raelle chuckled, accepting the food offered. Byron rolled his eyes, his butt hit the bench with a slight thump before he turned to Raelle. “Tell me everything, is she as hot as people said she was? Good enough for the great Raelle Collar?”

“Calm down By, I’m eating;” Raelle grumbled around a mouth full of bread and meat. “Fine, take your time, but I want to hear everything.” Raelle continued to eat her hot dog as Byron’s lean figure shook excitedly beside her. He had practically vibrated out of his seat by the time Raelle was finished licking her fingers clean of ketchup and mustard before pocketing the wrapper.

“Spill,” he demanded immediately upon her ceasing of consumption. “There’s nothing to spill Byron, she’s nice. We talked.”

“Please, I heard that you and her are working on something big;” Byron scoffed. He turned his gaze on her, imploring. Raelle couldn’t stop the involuntary rolling of her eyes at Byron’s antics. “She’s nice, we talked a little. That's it. Okay?”

“Talked about what?” Byron probed, he was never going to drop the subject until he got something.

“We had met before, at Scylla’s Raising Ceremony. I just didn’t know it was her at the time. We talked about that.”

“Oh? Well, were there sparks?" Byron paused for a moment as his eyes came alive with barely contained glee, "Wait, was she mystery girl?” Byron met Raelle’s eyes with ostensible excitement, nearly giddy with the new information. “She was Mystery girl, the one you kissed in the garden?” Raelle winced, her eyes shut tight against the gloriously bright smile Byron had affixed to his face. “She’s Mystery girl, with the beautiful blue eyes. The one you talked to about all the 'lost life and love' bullshit.”

“Okay, yes, but it’s nothing. We’ve moved on;” Raelle grumbled.

“Did you want to move on, or do you still like her?” Raelle deigned not to answer. Byron smirked, “You should try it out. I fall in love every week, maybe Scylla can charge your gears a little if you catch my drift.” Byron winked at her salaciously, his smile growing with every second. “I am not having this conversation with you,” Raelle grumbled as she attempted to rise from the bench. Byron latched onto her arm and pulled it gently, “Come on Rae, you need to do something. All you do is talk to your demon and whisper secrets in your summoning room. We’re young, we’re at the top of society. Enjoy it a little.”

“I need to go, Byron, I forgot that I agreed to meet someone in twenty minutes.”

“Skip it,” Byron exclaimed, “Wait, who is it? Who are you meeting?”

Raelle glanced uncomfortably at the ground and then her watch, body language impatient. “Is it Scylla?” Byron chuckled, his answer was in the blush that graced Raelle’s cheeks. He let her go, his fingers unfurling from around her forearm. “Have fun kids, use protection.” Raelle let out an exasperated sigh but waved good-naturedly to Byron before heading off into the night. Her friends’ laughter seemed to follow her down the concrete path.

…

Scylla stood in her apartment before two summoning circles, Alfos and Maridea each sat before her in opposing guises. Where Alfos was a fanciful bird with pristine plumage and piercing gold eyes, Maridea was a woman clothed in an old fashioned bodice and skirt. The only fantastical addition to her disguise was a set of wings that ruffled upon her back, their leathery appearance shining in the firelight.

“They want me to derail the investigation, they can’t have the book intercepted now, can they?” Scylla informed her servants. They glared back at her unamused. “We magicians have put up with the corrupt rule of others for too long, we deserve to have families. We deserve a choice.” She said each word like it was a speech she was reciting. Her gaze refocused on the beings in front of her.

“Alfos, you need to keep watch over Anacostia Quartermaine can’t have her, and her investigation into the disappearance of Porter and our departments, getting out of hand.”

The bird nodded its great head before dissipating in a shower of sparks and the lingering scent of sulfur. “Maridea, I have someone else for you to follow.”

“Who is it?” The demon drawled, disinterested in the inner politics of human society. “Not who, what. I need you to follow a djinn named Bartimaeus.” 


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raelle discovers the beginnings of a mystery. Alder's intentions may not be crystal clear. Abigail and Libba become embroiled in a resistance movement. Raelle and Scylla bond.

Tally’s lessons had been coming along nicely. Raelle had left earlier in the day for a meeting before promptly returning. The magician had come home to Tally lying on her belly pouring over another large tome while Bartimaeus stood vigil on her shoulder as a bird. He was teaching her Latin.

“I’m not giving you that conjugation tripe until you master basic words, I don’t know what kind of nonsense your school system teaches but that’s not how children learn it,” The djinn cawed. “Listen to Bart, he knows it better than I do probably,” Raelle told Tally as she settled down beside them.

She liked to supervise the lessons Bartimaeus gave the girl, filling in blanks about incantations that Bartimaeus never managed to learn. “We’ll make a stand-up magician out of you yet,” Bartimaeus teased, his feathers brushed Tally’s cheek as she continued to read.

“How was the meeting?” Bartimaeus inquired, his black eyes peered at Raelle as the bird tilted its head at a curious angle. “Good, found out Bellweather and Swythe got busy;” Raelle informed her friend. The bird let out a choking noise that sounded like a “quork” and a laugh.

“They didn’t” the bird exclaimed.

“They did,” Raelle chuckled, “It was heavily implied in their cover story.”

“They hate each other,” Bartimaeus said.

“What’s going on?” Tally interrupted the exchange, her eyes were wide with excitement at the gossip. “Abigail and Libba, sworn enemies, are now dating,” Raelle explained glibly.

“That sounds so cute!” Tally said with a brilliant smile. Bartimaeus snorted before fluttering off her shoulder and changing back to the form of John Mandrake. “Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, if I’m gonna be honest.”

“What makes you say that?” Tally queried, the relationship between the djinn and redhead had sunk into an easy repartee, almost equivalent to the spirit’s bond with Raelle. “Easy, they hate each other. If this is new, there are going to be flames.”

“Here, here;” Raelle cheered with a lazy pumped fist. “I’m due to meet Byron later and then I might pop by Scylla’s.”

“What’s happening between you and miss blue eyes?” Bartimaeus nudged his master teasingly, eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Nothing, we’re just talking,” Raelle said defensively, the djinn rolled his eyes. “Please, when I came back to that hallway both of you were practically shooting hearts out of your eyes.”

“Well, it’s nothing;” Raelle shrugged, “We’re just friends.”

“Bart, what does this symbol mean?” Tally grabbed the djinn’s attention with a tone of puzzlement and a dainty finger settled on a worn page. Bartimaeus squinted at the symbol, confusion evident in the set of his brow. “Don’t know kid, shouldn’t even be in there.”

“Let me see,” Raelle extended her hand and took the book. Where there were lines of script trailing throughout the page, a symbol was scribbled into a corner. It was shaped similar to an “F”. Raelle traced her finger along it, scouring her memory for a meaning. Upon the completion of the symbol by her trailing finger words seemed to echo from the book.

“ _Raelle, if you are listening to this you have found the last two runes I left you. You are beginning to piece everything together.”_ Willa Collar’s voice filled the room, Raelle twisted her head one way and the other in astonishment. “ _They know what you are, what work has made you. They will come for you soon if they have not already.”_

“What’s going on Rae, why are you looking around like that?” Bartimaeus scanned the room, he could feel a magical aura on the fourth and fifth planes, it felt as though it was emanating from the book. “Shh Bart, I’m trying to listen;” Both Tally and Raelle reprimanded the djinn.

Both girls snapped their attention to the other, surprise clear on their faces. “You can hear it?” They both questioned before being cut off by the continuation of the message. “ _You must find the rest of the incantation, you must free us all from the greed that has plagued our kind for too long. Break the chains, save us.”_

Her voice faded, leaving Raelle and Tally to gawk at the book in disbelief. “This wasn’t the first clue, there are more.” Raelle scrambled from her spot on the floor and began frantically searching the bookcases that lined her walls. “Help me look, Tal,” Raelle exclaimed. Tally rose quickly, her eyes skimming the bookshelves. She felt herself pulled in the direction of Raelle’s study. The brass doorknob and solid oak shelves stood floor to ceiling in the beautifully furnished apartment. A mahogany desk was settled facing the window. The view overlooked the streets of New York as civilization bustled about beneath them.

Tally’s hand settled on a thin volume, a similar glow to the first book surrounded it. Pulling the guide from the shelf, she bounded about the apartment pulling more titles. Bartimaeus watched the odd behavior of the girls with bewilderment and vague resignation. This was hardly the oddest thing he had seen humans do.

While the two girls searched the apartment top to bottom for a large collection of books, Bartimaeus shifted from a boy to a bat, then a bat to a mole. Shifting with every itch of his essence. “Bart, need me to dismiss you for a bit?” Raelle offered, her head was poking over the corner of a bookshelf. Bartimaeus shook his head, “No way. I can’t leave you kids to this kind of chaos, your bookshelves might bury you.”

“You’re shifting a lot so I figured I’d ask,” Raelle replied, Bartimaeus watched her toss another book onto a pile.

“Why is Bartimaeus shifting a big deal?” Tally inquired from the doorway. A large stack of books was clutched in her hands, balanced by her chest and chin. Bartimaeus rushed over to help, in the form of a raven-haired girl.

“Why are you two collecting so many books?” The djinn groaned.

“Answer my question first,” Tally pouted, Bartimaeus rolled his eyes.

“My kind aren’t accustomed to the natural laws of your world. You need a form to be in this world, my kind doesn’t have an actual solid form. So we shift, to abide by the rules of this side of the veil. My essence chafes at being here for extended periods of time, but I like Raelle so I put up with it.”

“I try to give him as much time off as I can,” Raelle said sternly.

“What would you do without me if I wasn’t around to protect your munchkin self?” Bartimaeus scoffed.

“Wait, so it actually physically hurts for you to be here?” Tally stated in appalment. The djinn nodded, “Can’t do much about it. Magicians aren’t going to stop summoning me any time soon.”

“Well I don’t want to summon anything anymore if it’s just going to hurt someone like you,” Tally set her remaining books down with a thump before Raelle. Indignation had settled, fierce, in her gaze. “This is ridiculous, you shouldn’t have to come here if you’re in pain all the time.”

“While that may be true, summoning spirits and being nice to them is better than leaving them to another magician who will mistreat them,” Raelle sighed. She wasn’t happy about Bartimaeus’s pain either. “She speaks the truth,” Bartimaeus said, “Raelle has treated me better than most masters. Besides, there’s a war right now and I’d much rather stick around and protect her than play dead with a bunch of other spirits.”

“Well, that explains why your kind rebelled so long ago,” Tally murmured.

“That rebellion was a mess,” Bartimaeus sneered. “It was an absolutely terrible idea for my kind. Walking around in your fragile little bodies, being forced to constrain our essences like that. Absolute nightmare, that is.”

“Is there any way to stop a summoning?” Tally’s inquiry was met by the blank expressions of both Raelle and Bartimaeus.

“Nah kid, this is just how it is;” Bartimaeus sighed. Tally’s hopeful expression dropped, the sobering effect of a Demon’s plight was fully setting in.

…

The tower overlooked the glittering cityscape, Alder stood obstinate against the moonlit glare as stars swirled in her eyes and flames flickered on the mantle behind her. “Is this your way of frightening Flavia,” She greeted her Afrit grimly, unmoving. The flames grew in a shower of sparks as an older woman with dark skin and greying hair stepped from the embers. “I have a report, as requested.” Flavia had chosen a whisper of a voice, one the president strained to hear.

“I command you to speak up, otherwise it’ll be the Stipples for you.” The demon winced, faltering in its subtle steps forward. “Of course master,” The afrit stammered with a bobbing bow. Alder noticed the bitterness that coated the demon’s tongue but withheld punishment, orders could be followed regardless of personal feelings. “We have been searching for the book’s courier for quite some time, the parade was a nice distraction. Along with the Spree attacks. It should be firmly in our grasp soon.”

“So you’ve found it then?” Alder stated, impressed.

“We know it is currently within the New York Sewer Systems,” Flavia informed her. Alder’s jaw clenched, her lips puckering in displeasure. “That’s far from found, Flavia. I expect a stronger effort from my servants, shall I discontinue your service permanently?”

Flavia’s essence seemed to shrivel for a moment, the figure of the old woman flickered for a single second, before reverting. Alder smiled, “I have big plans for your kind. I promise you all everything you could want.” She stepped towards the afrit, settling a comforting hand on the demon’s cheek. “You just have to cooperate, do we have an understanding?” Flavia gave a blink and a nod. “Good, now get back to it, I need that book.”

Flavia took her dismissal gratefully, vanishing in a wisp of smoke and the lingering scent of jasmine.

…

“Shut up shit turkey,” Abigail snapped. Libba and she had been arguing back and forth about proper commoner supplies for hours now. The resistance cell was due to meet soon, their new friends Lyla and Daniel had promised to meet them at a coffee shop. They were eager for any civilians who had “resisted the temptation of the corrupt demons.”

“They’re abominations and Magicians drive us into the ground with their salacious whims of malevolence,” Lyla had raved. Abigail was sorely tempted to roll her eyes at the moment, but she held herself back. It also helped that Libba drove a solid elbow into her ribcage.

After making noises of gratifying sympathy for the egos of the insignificant commoners, Libba and Abigail had agreed to meet the siblings outside Brewsters, a small rundown café in the city. “I swore Spree were magicians,” Abigail muttered to Libba on their way to the meeting spot. Libba shrugged, “Who knows, maybe these commoners are simply pawns to someone greater, someone with a brain.”

Abigail groaned, “Let’s get this done quickly, the faster we’re done the sooner you and I never have to speak again.”

“Real mature Bedwetter,” Libba sneered.

“Nay nay noodling dirt – “ Abigail’s insult is cut off by the sudden pressure of Libba pushing her up against a wall and kissing her.

Her eyes snapped open in surprise as she felt the smaller girl’s hand weaving into her hair, the other gently settling on her waist. “Hey girls!” Daniel’s voice sounded near the pair, both women turning to meet the boy's moss-green eyes. He was short for a boy, taller than Libba, but shorter than Abigail. Lyla stood beside her brother, her eyes were the same unsettling moss-green. “Ready to go?” Her inquiry was met by feinted enthusiasm as Libba and Abigail intertwined their hands with forced smiles in place.

The path to the sewers led downwards through a sewer grate. Lyla and Daniel carried flashlights with them, the beams scoured the path that stretched before them. “Sorry to interrupt you two earlier, didn’t mean to get in the way but we have to arrive on time.” Daniel’s explanation is met with noncommittal grunts from both Abigail and Libba as they traipse through the dark.

Abigail would deny it to the grave but Libba’s hand felt almost comforting in her own as they perused the deepest depths of the city’s sewage systems. “Why here exactly? Why couldn’t you guys meet in a basement or attic – “ Abigail trailed off as the smell seared her olfactory senses. “It smells absolutely foul in here, Abby’s right, you couldn’t choose an abandoned factory or something?” Libba’s nose was wrinkled with disgust.

“The smell down here helps ward off the demons, they don’t like foul smells supposedly;” Daniel said.

“Who told you that?” Abigail scoffed, Libba dug her thumbnail into Abigail’s hand causing the girl to yelp. Lyla and Daniel’s heads whipped around in bewilderment, “What was that?” Daniel exclaimed.

“Sorry, someone squeezed my hand too hard,” Abigail grumbled.

“Sorry, thought I saw a spider;” Libba explained with an apologetic smile. Lyla and Daniel turned around and continued down the service tunnel allowing Libba to sneak a quick wink at Abigail. Unamused, the taller girl allowed her small fake-girlfriend to tug her the rest of the way.

A dilapidated door was shut firmly against them, a makeshift peephole poked through. Lyla delivered a series of mysterious knocks to the door that echoed down the muck covered corridor.

The door slid open to reveal a smattering of commoners dressed in their regular street clothes. A boy with black curly hair stood amongst them, he had olive skin and almond-shaped eyes. Abigail’s gaze met his, he gave a small nod and turned away. An older woman stepped up to the front of the room, she wore a windbreaker and jeans. Her boots were caked in mud and other unmentionable goop that Abigail had little patience to think about.

“The magicians have conducted raids on the underground portions of our bases. They have been attacking sectors A, C, and F.” The woman was using a laser pointer to define the targeted areas on a shoddily drawn map. The canvas was pasted to the wall with glue and duct tape. “We have information that their next targets will be here in E, along with B, H, and I.” The woman highlighted each sector accordingly.

“We have newcomers ma’am!” Lyla alerted the leader. The woman’s blue eyes settled on Abigail and Libba, her expression grim. “You should have said so sooner Lyla. If they’re infiltrators they’ll leak our secrets to the government.”

“Michael approved them a week ago Charlize,” The solemn boy with the brown eyes said. The woman named Charlize continued to glare at them contemptuously but quickly ceased. “Very well Adil, what’s their story?”

“They were found in the tunnels a day or two after The Spree attack,” Daniel explained.

“Found how?” Charlize asked.

“They were kissing ma’am,” Daniel uttered with vague discomfort, a blush rose to his cheeks. “The small one, Libba, said she had been led down to the tunnel by a magic trail. To our knowledge, Abby, her girlfriend, is a commoner like us.”

“Why was she following a magic trail,” Charlize inquired suspicion peeked through once more. “They were looking for a place to, um –“ Daniel’s next words were suddenly caught in a coughing fit as his face grew redder with embarrassment.

“Okay, that’s enough of that;” Charlize growled, “While I’m questioning their location choice, the story is embarrassing enough to be true. Although I will be keeping my eye on both of you.” The woman fixed her beady eyes on the pair before turning to the rest of the group. “We were given swift orders to attain a powerful artifact on the day of the Spree Attack. Something we successfully did, now we have the artifact hidden. Where will not be revealed? Only the higher-ups know, and I am far from one of them.

“You don’t know where it is?” Libba exclaimed, the girl’s outburst allowed Abigail to dig an elbow into her pretend lover with great gratification. The group of rebels peered at the girls with alarm and the beginnings of mistrust. “I was just wondering because I thought you were the main leader,” Libba hurriedly corrected her mistake.

“No, I am only the leader of this cell. There are more of us meeting at the moment all around the city. We are but one part of the resistance, the true resistance.”

“What do you mean by true resistance?” Abigail asked confusion crept into her voice as her mind whirled with the possibilities.

“The Spree claims to fight for freedom but make no mistake, they fight for further freedom for the magician. Not us, not the commoners.”

“But Libba has powers and you’re accepting of her,” Abigail said pointedly. Libba stomped hard on her foot in return.

“Libba, have you ever summoned a demon of any kind?” Charlize questioned, her eyes had taken on a shiny quality. The fervor was quite alarming to both girls.

“No ma’am,” Libba lied. Her voice was filled as much humility as she could muster.

“Then we do not take issue with you, those who have been gifted with resistance or other talents are not destined to wield magic, but to fight it.” Charlize entreated the crowd as they stood at rapt attention “Kathleen Jones, one of the remaining members of the resistance in London was part of a resistance cell that sought to unbalance the grasp of the magician government. The same traits appeared in people who would go on to overthrow Prague. Every great nation has a rebellion, a revival of the true nature of humanity. We are not born to the arcane, but to the earth. So we fight, against their corruption and injustice.”

“What’s the end game then?” Abigail cut in, the woman’s lunatic ravings against the government was utter blasphemy. The magicians ruled with the utmost respect for justice. They were the bridge between the arcane and the public, these commoners were insolent upstarts that had no business sticking their noses in affairs that did not concern their kind.

“We aim to destroy the home of every wicked being in existence. Rend it from time and space. One final sin is done with the highest atonement in mind to end all evil.”

“Wouldn’t you need a magician for that?” Libba pointed out. A flutter of laughter sounded from the group around them, “We have one such member, willing to sacrifice everything for us. She lives within the city and only meets us in secret. She's a guide to end commoner suffering and restore balance to the human race.”

“Who?” Abigail said the older woman cracked a smile. Fire and fury pouring from her eyes, “Now that’s a secret girl, but we pray for the day of final reckoning.”

…

Scylla opened the door for Raelle, the blonde’s eyes were softer with her. Warmer, almost. Scylla could barely contain her personal glee at the joy in Raelle’s eyes upon every meeting. She had sent Maridea to find and follow Bartimaeus, the spirit that frequented Raelle’s company. Engagement was forbidden, any blunders would be met with the highest category of punishment.

Raelle sat before her nursing a glass of wine, she appeared tired. The form-fitting clothes seemed to settle loosely on her in some places, her eyes had telltale bags beneath them. The hollowing of her facial features a grim foretelling of her impending snap. “You look like you could use a nap,” Scylla teased. Raelle shrugged, “I didn’t get a lot of rest. I was up doing some research with Tally, then I went to go meet Byron for some hot dogs.”

“How’s the research going?” Scylla inquired casually, her interest was not an innocent one but Raelle didn’t need to know that. “We’ve dug up a couple of books but we’re still piecing things together,” the other girl replied vaguely. Scylla gave Raelle a sympathetic pout, her hand trailing up Raelle’s shoulder. “You look like you could use a break from thinking.”

“That obvious huh,” Raelle chuckled. Scylla stood suddenly, an idea alighting within her mind. “I know just the thing.” The brunette approached the stereo system with an excited gleam to her eye, a soft song poured through the speakers as Scylla offered Raelle her hand. “May I have this dance?”

The blonde snorted in amusement but accepted the proposition, lacing their fingers together as Scylla pulled the other girl in. A hand on a shoulder and a hand on a waist, the two girls glided about the small living room space of Scylla’s apartment. The dark furniture contrasting the lighter moment between the two women.

Raelle’s posture was lighter now, almost buoyant, as they whirled about the room. Each had been trained in ball dancing as a custom by high society masters. Raelle raised an arm, allowing Scylla to twirl beneath as Raelle tugged her close once more. Their faces came within inches of each other, blue eyes meeting blue. Scylla felt her breath catch in her throat, her elation outshining the need to dig into Raelle’s history.

 _“Trust is better gained once a stronger bond is formed,”_ a voice whispers in her mind. Alarm bells sound as Scylla leans in, Raelle’s hand coming up to brush her cheek. Scylla feels her lips barely graze Raelle’s lips before the other girl pulls back, albeit reluctantly. “I should really get back to my apartment, I have work to do,” Raelle muttered, their lips were inches away. Scylla yearned to lean in. “You should do that,” Scylla replied, she sounded far from convincing. “Yeah, I’ll go” Raelle murmured back as she leaned in fully.

Their lips were warm and soft as they met, a slow and savory moment for both of them. As the tip of Raelles tongue swiped across the bottom of Scylla’s lips an urgency replaced their previous leisure. Both girls seemed to meet one another with a level of fervor that neither expected. Hands grasped at clothes, layers were shed. Scylla gasped out a quick “Bedroom,” before both girls were through the door and into the suite.

Raelle shoved Scylla onto the bed, her previously tired eyes charged with energy unrivaled. “I thought you were going to go,” Scylla said absentmindedly. “Do you want me to?” Raelle asked, her thumb and forefinger brushed Scylla’s chin for a second as they both assessed one another. Scylla’s previously neat bun was now in tendrils framing her face. Raelle was stripped of her shirt and bra, her belt was unbuckled and Scylla’s hands were grasping the flesh above the other girls behind. “Do you want me to leave,” Raelle asked once more, her voice held a more serious tone to it than before. “No,” Scylla said. Raelle leaned in.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scylla has questionable motives. Status report. Tally is allowed a visit. Abigail goes on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence, i.e. blood and gore

_Prodding._ Scylla awoke to an incessant prodding just above her temple. Her bedroom had no windows, so she couldn’t help wondering if it was Raelle attempting to awaken her. How the other girl could have any energy remaining was beyond her, but the blonde did have a penchant for being full of surprises. “Psst, hey miss?” A reedy voice sounded above her.

Scylla’s eyelids snapped open, the voice most definitely was not Raelle’s. “Psst, miss;” the voice sounded once more. Scylla turned her head slightly from its spot on Raelle’s shoulder. The two girls were still pressed up against one another despite the copious amounts of room in the bed. The sheets were tangled about their legs, Raelle’s arm was laid out underneath the dip in Scylla’s neck. The blonde girl was laid out, similar to a starfish, on her back facing away from Scylla. A particularly bulbous looking imp floated above them, its wings fluttering rapidly.

“Psst, miss;” the imp hissed as he raised a single suction-cupped finger for another poke. “Stop it,” Scylla ordered in a hoarse whisper. Her throat felt raw from overuse. The imp halted his finger’s descent and peered at her with beady little eyes. “I have a message from –“

Scylla cut the demon off, her eyes set on the slumbering form of Raelle. “Not here,” she murmured. Scylla attempted to slip from the bed, the movement causing Raelle to shift slightly in her sleep. “Scyl?” Raelle yawned. Her head was turned to look at the fumbling brunette, one hand rubbing sleep from her eye. “Go back to sleep, I got a message from one of my informants, I’ll be right back;” Scylla soothed. Raelle nodded, midnight messages were hardly foreign to magicians and turned over before she drifted off once more.

Scylla padded into the living room after pulling on a thin robe, her posture positively drooping with lethargy. The imp followed in her wake, bobbing through the air. “Indigo wants your report,” the demon said flippantly. Scylla watched as it made a pen and paper materialize in its hand. “So you’ve gained the victim’s trust?” The imp snickered in malevolent amusement.

“She’s not a victim,” Scylla snapped, irritation evident in her voice.

“What else would she be? You’re playing her with the full intention of using her for information. I found you in bed with her for Pete’s sake. Right now all you have on is a robe, so I know what you two were getting up to.”

“Shut up,” Scylla snarled, the imp’s words had astoundingly cut her deeper than she was prepared for. “Tell them that I’m getting closer to her but still unable to get further information on her old master.”

“Does she know yours?” The demon retorted smartly. Scylla muttered the incantation for the shriveling fire and watched as the creature contorted in pain. It’s essence flashed in the moonlight that poured through the flat windows. Scylla concluded the spell before meeting the glare of the imp. “Don’t talk to me like that demon;” Scylla’s eyes were those of pure loathing.

“Of course ma’am, I’ll deliver your report.” The imp took its leave with incredible speed, dissipating with a swirl of mist.

Scylla crawled back into bed, farther now from the warmth that Raelle offered. “ _You’re playing with her,”_ the imp’s voice reiterated in her mind. The sentiment was not lost on Scylla, she knew what she was doing.

When she had first been given the mark Scylla thought it would be easy. After all, they had a moment in the Presidential Garden long before Raelle's name had crossed her mind. At the time Scylla had been reminiscing about the deaths of her parents, her sudden turn over to Izadora had been a hard one. She was bereft, and that’s how Raelle had found her, crying on a stone bench around a smattering of azaleas. Raelle had been kind to her, making her laugh as their shoulders brushed.

Scylla had been dating Porter at the time, but she never expected him to cheer her up. He was warm and kind, but he had forgotten their mission. He had gotten lost in the prestige and power of the magician status, he had forgotten his purpose. When he turned himself in his parents had been spared, he still was allowed to visit them sometimes, albeit in prison. Scylla’s parents were not so lucky.

“It’s your day right?” Raelle had said with such cocksure conviction as she stood from the bench and offered Scylla her hand. Scylla could not help the lazy roll of her eyes as her fingers entwined with Raelle’s, it felt perfect, in a way. “It’s supposed to be,” Scylla had responded with the bare trace of mirth and solemnity. “Dance with me then,” Raelle’s words had not been a request at the time, but a demand. A demand that Scylla met gladly, embracing the moment as the younger girl spun her about the flower-strewn grounds. Their dance had been followed by a brief and magical kiss before the start of the ceremony was at hand for Scylla's Raising, Scylla was called by her master, and Raelle had disappeared back into the great hall. She thought she would never see the blonde girl again. It was to Scylla's great surprise that Raelle's name and likeness appeared in her latest mission file from the Spree.

She had not expected the spark to remain once Raelle was revealed to be the President's Apprentice, but their dance had felt all too familiar when Raelle duplicated the moment in her living room. While the light music may have flowed from a stereo instead of open French doors, and moonlight spilled into the room over a skyline instead of through treetops. The waltz was one she knew, it had the same steps, the same hands, the same heartbeat. The same feeling.

But Scylla was using Raelle, and Scylla knew that. How else was the Spree going to get the necessary information to institute real change? Scylla was using Raelle for the greater good. She had been given a mission of paramount importance. She was the Spree’s way of getting closer to their end goal. Closer to breaking the cycle.

Their story may have started like a fairy tale. A magnificent strut through a beautiful meadow as music accompanied them, the laughter and feelings of ease, the sharing of a singular kiss but Scylla had given up on happily ever after a long time ago. She had real work to do, work she could not forget.

So Scylla tried her hardest to believe in her own words, as Raelle’s slumbering form rolled over into her space. Scylla tried her hardest to not believe in fairy tales. When Raelle’s arms wrapped around her and pulled her infinitely closer. Scylla tried her hardest not to hope for something real. As she felt the girl's breath gracing the crown of her head she attempted to stop the flutter of her heart as she took up a familiar two-step. She tried her hardest to feel nothing at all.

…

Bartimaeus waited impatiently as Raelle sped about her apartment, clothes laid about in a trail behind her. “Shit, I’m running so late;” Raelle muttered as the djinn watched her stuff a portion of toast in her mouth. The toast had been on Tally’s plate at the time, something the redhead took notice of with a jut of her bottom lip and crossing of her arms. “This is what happens when you humans have too much pride, you should have just shown up at the meeting with what you wore at the time,” Bartimaeus critiqued. Raelle ignored him in favor of pulling on a slightly wrinkled jacket.

“Tally are you ready?” Raelle inquired.

The other girl perked up, eyes wide. “I’m coming?”

“Yeah you’re coming, we have to go soon, too, so we have to hurry.”

“Got it!” Tally exclaimed as she dashed towards her limited wardrobe. Humans and their need to appear impressive, clothes can only do so much in hiding knobby knees, pallor, and general disrepair. “You’ve got maybe negative five minutes kid,” Bartimaeus chimed in unhelpfully. Raelle huffed and worked faster at pulling on a shoe.

The trio’s arrival was met with little fanfare as they were frog-marched from the lobby and into the elevator before arriving in a dimly lit conference room. Both the Bellweather and Swythe girl were there along with General Anacostia Quartermaine, who was severely irate.

“You’re late Collar,” Quartermaine barked. Raelle made a noncommittal grunt before settling down in her chair. “Sorry, but it’s not like I’m the last to arrive.”

“Who’s not the last to arrive?” Scylla smirked as she entered with two cups of coffee, one of which was placed gently in front of Raelle. The blonde took the cup gratefully, her eyes closed in contentment. “You still know my coffee order?” Raelle chuckled. Bartimaeus couldn’t prevent the snort of amusement that left his beak. He ignored Raelle’s indignant glare as she assessed his inky plumage.

“Reports ladies?” Anacostia demanded, the other girls snapped to attention, their focus returning to the task at hand.

“We fell in with a different resistance than the Spree ma’am,” Bellweather murmured with the slightest tinge of shame.

“You found the wrong resistance?” Anacostia restated, unimpressed.

“They’re still important, General.” Libba said, “They have the book, apparently the Spree bungled the theft and now this new resistance has it.”

“Any chance they can use it?” Anacostia inquired.

“Possibly ma’am, but they haven’t yet which suggests they’re missing something,” Libba replied. “Abigail and I may be able to ask around though, they seem kind of small-time in comparison to the Spree. Most of them are commoners.”

“Good, use that, focus on what they’re planning with that book. If the demon is right then we’re in big trouble if they manage to initiate a summoning of that caliber.” Both Abigail and Libba nodded in confirmation of their new orders before the General turned towards Scylla. “You, I heard there has been an infiltration of your department and my eyes are on you Ramshorn. I want your demon Alfos in for a meeting today. I don’t know if you had him summoned at the time, but you have a history of employing this afrit and he’s a prime suspect in a case I’m currently working. Fifteen hundred, sharp.”

Bartimaeus studied the other girl’s expression at Quartermaine’s words, curious as to whether Scylla knew what the General was talking about. “Yes ma’am,” Scylla deadpanned. Bartimaeus detected the barest trace of loathing in the girl’s gaze but said nothing, still uncertain of the girl's character.

Her utter disdain for Anacostia Quartermaine could be unrelated to the General's demand. “Raelle, how’s research on the artifact coming?”

“So far we haven’t been able to find much. The magician’s archives here don’t stretch past the fourteen hundreds and the Book of Thoth was made long before then.”

“We need the information, take a trip to DC and consult the Smithsonian,” Anacostia advised.

“If we don’t have it here we won’t have it there,” Scylla pointed out.

“What would you suggest then Ramshorn?” General inquired.

“Can’t you just ask another djinn?” Tally blurted out, interrupting the repartee between the two women. Anacostia blinked, turning to the redhead in contemplation. “We could always inquire in London, they have some old records from their golden days, but demons are often unreliable sources by themselves. I’m sure Foreign Affairs could assist you.” Anacostia surmised, turning to face Raelle.

“Scylla can help me, she travels all the time, right?” Raelle said. Both girls looked at each other with the beginnings of a soft smile, Bartimaeus held back the snort this time. Anacostia frowned.

…

The meeting concluded promptly, Anacostia held Raelle back in an attempt to dissuade her allying with Scylla. Tally dawdled in the doorway while Bartimaeus perched on her shoulder. Abigail and Libba were discussing their orders in hushed voices and scathing remarks. “What’s got, you so restless kid?” The Djinn inquired. Tally gave the spirit a shrug of her shoulders, “I wanted to ask Anacostia if I could visit a friend of mine.”

“Friend?” Bartimaeus squawked.

“I haven’t seen Glory in a while, or my mother;” She lowered her voice at the last part. Her eyes darted about the corridor briefly before settling on Bartimaeus’s beady black ones. “I’m sure Raelle wouldn’t mind bending a couple of rules, especially if you want to see your Mom.”

“Really?” Tally exclaimed hopefully. The bird nodded. “Of course, she’ll understand.”

“Understand what?” Raelle inquired as she approached the pair. “Red here wants to visit her mom,” Bartimaeus hissed conspiratorially. “If that’s okay with you of course,” Tally added.

“Yeah, that’s fine;” Raelle replied, her tone almost absentminded. Tally’s eyes lit up with excitement, her body vibrating with enough enthusiasm to unseat Bartimaeus’s crow form. “Thank you so much, I can’t tell you how happy I am!”

“Shh, calm down Tally, we can’t have everyone looking at us right now. We’ll talk at home.” Tally nodded solemnly in response. She watched as Raelle quickly walked away following the disappearing form of Scylla, her hand gave a firm squeeze of the red head’s forearm.

Tally and Bartimaeus wandered back to the apartment building while Raelle took up a conversation with Scylla. Once the djinn and Tally had arrived back in the flat they set about pulling more beginning compendiums from the shelves. “What do you want to learn about kid?” The former bird, now boy, set a stack of books on the coffee table. Far from the study where all the symbol ridden tomes laid in a haphazard pyramid. “What about history?” Tally shouted from another room.

“Like what?” Bartimaeus called back. Tally returned empty-handed, her expression curious. “Why is it such a big deal that magicians can't have children?”

“Dynasty’s, don’t they explain that early on?” Bartimaeus replied flippantly.

“But why? Why was the dynasty’s so bad?” Tally pressed. The djinn sighed, “Well sit down. You humans never had any happy tales, do you?”

Tally sat, Bartimaeus spoke.

“Back in the ancient times, when your kind was building the pyramids or temples. Back when you believed some of my kind were gods and summoned us to parrot your religions, the magic ran in families. The secrets of our names were hidden to the general populace, for the nobles only.”

“So nothing’s changed,” Tally quipped, Bartimaeus chuckled and continued.

“As time passed dynasty’s rose and fell, tearing entire nations and peoples apart. Kings and Queens were simply magicians, who bowed the people to their will with an incantation and wave of their hand. They used this power to their advantage, shrouding themselves in lies and mystery, taking advantage of ignorance. They pushed shared knowledge through their families, tying the Other Side to their petty wars and bloodshed. Their petty battles nearly broke your world, hardly a problem for my kind, but humanity’s end was near.” Bartimaeus paused for a moment, clearing his throat for the story’s continuation. “The commoners rose, hundreds of them, thousands. I can’t say, but some of them learned magic from the books they weren’t supposed to read. Some of them had built-in resistance like you lot in America. But your people rose and fought back, dragging my kind into your petty squabbles once more.”

“It worked though,” The djinn lamented, “families were cast down. It was revealed that nobles alone were not the only ones to have access to magic. But your kind love power, you covet it. So through centuries of political intrigue and terror, humans have forced their kind to follow restrictions that fit the government’s desires. Right now, your so-called Democracy would be threatened by familial bonds. That was the reasoning of Britain. Loyalty to the state, not loyalty to those of your own blood.”

“Adoptive families can be close too though,” Bartimaeus exclaimed pointedly. “Raelle loved her first master dearly, called her mom and everything even though it’s heavily frowned upon. You magicians sacrifice a lot, bonds, love, loyalty. You’re like a festering snake pit mostly, only a matter of time before you start feeding on each other.”

“So they execute families on the basis of 'they might love their parents more'? That makes no sense.” Tally said. Her brows were furrowed, arms crossed. Bartimaeus couldn’t hold back the onslaught of laughter that escaped his lips. “You don’t get it, do you?” The djinn wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye as he lounged upon the couch. “They do it because they can, they supply you with excuses steeped in history and blood, but your system is the same no matter what nonsense they teach you. They keep you from your families so you know no loyalty but to the government. They give the most promising apprentices to the most powerful to foster dependency on the lies they spoon feed you. They brainwash you all from the first day, and your mom was the only smart one in getting you out while she could. She would have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for that Spree attack.”

“You can’t believe we’re all terrible,” Tally murmured dejectedly. Bartimaeus peered at her for a second, sorrow etched into his face. “Just because there are rare exceptions doesn’t mean the pattern doesn’t exist kid.” Tally’s head drooped, Bartimaeus’s words carried the weight of centuries of enslavement and abuse. His posture was one of defeat. Tally reached out and set a hand over his. “Just because there’s a pattern doesn’t mean we can’t break it.”

…

Bartimaeus accompanied Tally to her old neighborhood, the task of Tally’s protection was trusted to no one else. Raelle’s bond with the djinn was a strong one, their respect for one another providing prime motivation. Bartimaeus would never admit it, but he wouldn’t trust the redhead’s safety to anyone else either.

The neighborhood was mostly deserted, the windows had their curtains pulled. Most of the families within were out or fled. The neighborhood housed more than one dodger family, Tally’s sudden disappearance had spooked them. Tally traipsed up her lawn and towards the door, power emanated from the house that hadn’t been there before. She used the brass knocker upon the door.

The scrambling of the home’s occupant sounded from inside. The brilliant glow of an unknown artifact shone through the walls, she could feel the buzz upon her skin. “What is that?” Tally asked Bartimaeus, the djinn shrunk back from the nexus of energy. “I don’t know but it's strong.”

“Mom!” Tally called, her hand slapped against the door three times before resting there. “Mom, open up, please! I have limited time.”

“Begone demon, I know you take the form of my daughter.” Her mother shouted. Bartimaeus rolled his eyes. “Ma’am I am not, in fact, in the shape of your daughter, but a young boy. Your daughter is very much here and would love to talk!”

Tally felt a slight pressure against the door, her mother was pressed against the other side peeking through the peephole. “Tally, what’s our code word;” her mother muttered. The words were muffled by the wood between them. “Matrifocal,” Tally groaned. The door popped open slightly, Tally’s mother allowed only a gap to stick a quarter of her face through. “Tally?” She said hesitantly. Tally nodded, “It’s me, Mom.” The door swung open, and Tally began to weep as her mother’s embrace enveloped her.

“Where have you been? How did you escape? Glory came back but she couldn’t tell me much. I was so worried –“ Her mother sobbed into Tally’s shoulder. Realizing that Tally was emotionally indisposed herself, Bartimaeus took up the challenge of answering the many questions of the matriarch.

“She’s been with my Master back in the city. She didn’t escape as much as she’s been allowed visitation. I don’t know who this Glory is but they wouldn’t be able to tell you much since everything’s quite hush-hush at the mo.”

Both women were deaf to the djinn’s words as the remained in each other’s arms.

While the two collected themselves Bartimaeus took the time to study the room. Maple bookshelves were placed on either side of a television with a cherry-finished coffee table. A yellow couch was settled facing the TV and a single mug of tea was settled on a saucer. Knitting needles and takeout containers were piled obsequiously in the kitchen. Missing posters were stacked on the table, untouched. He had not seen any papers depicting Tally anywhere, he assumed the mother had thought better of her scheme. The less attention on Tally’s new residence with the government, the better.

Bartimaeus herded the humans past the entryway and into the main room, amused by their refusal in letting go of one another. “I wish you had gotten word to me sooner,” her mother said.

“We couldn’t Mom, an imp could have been tracked here.” Her mother nodded in understanding. “I’m glad you’re back, that’s good. That means we have a chance.”

“A chance at what?” Tally inquired. Ignoring her daughter, the blonde middle-aged woman clapped her hands and uttered an incantation that created a billowing of smoke. A large platypus appeared, it’s fur a brilliant purple and it’s eyes made of diamonds. It stood at an impressive six feet on its hind legs. The spirit had adorned itself with a blood-red fez. “Amiones, take care of this demon for me.”

The platypus took an intimidating step forward but Tally quickly intercepted it. “Mom no! Bartimaeus is a friend.”

“Don’t be silly Tally, demons aren’t friends.”

“Excuse me, I take afront to the term demon. I am a spirit and being of great power, I am a djinn, the great Bartimaeus, I am Sakhr al-Jinni! I am N’gorso the Mighty and the Serpent of Silver Plumes! I have rebuilt the walls of Uruk, Karnak, and Prague! I have spoken to Solomon and –“

“Honestly, Bart, I love you but do we really have time for all these titles?” Tally interrupted. Her stance was wide in front of him, blocking the path of the opponent platypus. “Fair point,” the djinn sighed. The boy quickly changed to a gargoyle, flipping backward in the confinement of the room. “I’ve taken on a lot scarier than a purple beaver with a beak bud,” the gargoyle snapped. The billed creature took another step forward, its eyes almost imperceptibly angry.

“Kill it Amiones,” Tally’s mother ordered. Tally stepped closer to Bartimaeus, attempting to block the other spirit’s approach. “Mom no, he’s my friend. Please call it off, I can explain everything. Just call Amiones off.”

“The demon has charmed you, Tally, it’s a glamor, as soon as it’s dead you’ll understand.”

“No,” Tally shouted, “Dismiss Amiones now Mom or you’ll never see me again.”

“Listen to her, she knows what she’s talking about.” Bartimaeus chimed in. Amiones created a small orb of energy, “I can’t get a clear shot, ma’am.”

“You can wreck the house Amiones, we’ll be leaving right after anyway;” Ms. Craven replied flippantly. The platypus nodded. “Tally, demons are nefarious creatures. I didn’t raise you in the magician world but believe me when I tell you they’re selfish and spiteful monsters. Without us to curb them they’d wreak havoc on the world.”

“No they’d live in peace in theirs, just listen mom, please.”

“Don’t hurt my daughter Amiones or there will be consequences,” the older woman commanded. “Doesn’t look like she’s gonna listen, kid,” Bartimaeus said, Tally, felt a stone claw settle on her shoulder.

“That’s not good, time to go,” the gargoyle exclaimed with an edge of worry in his voice, his grip cemented itself around Tally. “She said she’s leaving this place right?”

“Only if I’m with her probably,” Tally replied.

“Well, sorry to disappoint her but I don’t think she’ll be able to stay here either way.”

“Why?” Tally exclaimed. Bartimaeus shot backward, Tally in tow. She felt herself tugged into the air through a showering of glass and concrete as they spiraled upwards towards the sky. A magical presence building from the east.

“What’s that?” Tally asked as she searched the horizon for the telltale approach of djinn or search orbs. “Something’s coming in this direction. I’m surprised you didn’t detect it before me,” Bartimaeus answered.

“What about my mom, she doesn’t have the sight!” Tally stammered, her feet were floating above the rooftops. “She’s gotta make it on her own, my job is to protect you kid.” The Gargoyle’s grasp tightened around the flailing girl as she craned her neck towards her house.

“Raelle wouldn’t punish you for rescuing my Mom,” Tally shouted above the flapping of the gargoyle’s wings. “She wouldn’t cooperate in time, you were too distracted to notice the presence but it’s coming fast. Just focus Tally.”

Tally shut her eyes for a moment, all of her senses settling on the approaching magical activity. It was huge, the force of it palpable from miles away. “We have to warn her, please!” Tally begged tears were streaming down her face as Bartimaeus continued on his path away from the dimly lit suburban street.

“Bart," Tally shouted, a realization had struck her. "Glory’s down there. I know my mom might not cooperate but Glory and her family are down there. We have to warn them, or at least try.”

“Does Glory have the sight?” Bartimaeus inquired between labored breaths. “No, resistance;” Tally exclaimed.

“Let’s hope she has a strong enough resistance to withstand what's coming,” Bartimaeus stated. They were soaring just below the clouds now, the homes beneath them were pinpricks in Tally’s vision. “Bartimaeus,” Tally called, her shoulders shook from the pent up terror within her. “Please.” That one word was uttered with such defeat and sorrow that Bartimaeus’s centuries-old heartstrings were tugged. “Fine.” He snapped. Suddenly Tally was pulled into a swift dive back in the direction they had come.

Their descent was a rapid one, Bartimaeus screaming instructions at her. “Which of these houses is abandoned, kid?”

“The one on the end of the block, no one’s been there for years.” Tally informed the djinn. “Good, this'll get their attention.” At the end of his words, Bartimaeus tossed Tally over one stony shoulder and launched a detonation at the home in question. Flames enveloped the building quickly, the doors of neighboring houses were flung open with vigor as her old neighbors rushed out onto their driveways. A flying monkey launched itself into the air after them from Tally’s own house, the movement caught Bartimaeu's attention, the shape detectable out of the corner of his eye.

“Gotta go, hold on tight kid!” Bartimaeus directed as he launched them forward with as much strength as he could.

“I thought you were going to hide in the house while I warned everyone, not blow it up!” Tally groaned.

“No time, that’ll get everyone looking around though. Nothing like thinking you’re already under attack to prepare for an attack, right?”

Tally let out a defeated sigh but relented, hoping her friend’s detonation was enough.

…

Abigail was crowded once more into a maintenance room in the underground. Libba was attending to a recent detonation in a neighborhood outside of the city. Strong magical energy had been detected as well but the trail ended at another sewage grate. Libba would be running in the background for Madelyn for the rest of the night, which left Abigail to attend the meeting alone. Her demon, Castor, had turned himself into a beetle to patrol about the tunnels. Not too far away that he couldn’t help, but not so far that he’d be detected.

“You’re alone today I see,” Daniel noted. Lyla was elsewhere in the room, conversing with another commoner. They all wore jeans and t-shirts under shabby jackets. Abigail could barely disguise her distaste for the mundane company she was forced to keep. “Libba wasn’t feeling well today.” Abigail’s information is met with a sympathetic nod and pat on the back. She makes a mental note to wash her jacket as soon as she gets home, or burn it.

“That’s a shame, we always love to have all hands on deck. Especially since we’re conducting a raid today.”

Abigail turned sharply at the man’s words. “We’re conducting a what?”

“Raid, no one except the inner circle is told the day of the raids, they provide all the gear anyway. It helps deter informants.” Danial explained with a chipper attitude. Abigail felt a strong urge to punch him.

“I wasn’t aware, I’m not ready.”

“That’s fine, some people stay back anyway, you just can’t leave until the raid’s complete.”

Abigail winced, her options were narrowing by the minute. “Maybe I should go, get some experience.” Daniel’s smile widened, “You bet! It’s really fun too! It makes you feel like you’re doing something. Our objective is to meet a courier, supposedly they’re a dodger that’s pulled herself from the influence of demons.”

“You need this many people for that?” Abigail inquired, she cast a look around the room to assess the two dozen people that milled about. “Nah,” Daniel chuckled, “It’s Adil, Lyla, and I. The rest are going to be distractions.”

“Is there any way I could get in on it? Being a distraction seems really boring.” Daniel pondered the request before nodding, “Fair enough. You won’t do anything though. Just watch and stay in the back.”

Abigail did just that, as the group dispersed throughout the underground, each armed with elemental spheres, silver throwing disks, and knives. “Silver hurts demons, along with rosemary;” Daniel explained to her, not that she needed the information considering she had dealt with demons since the age of ten.

They traipsed through one dark passage after another, flashlights guided their trek through the tunnels. Abigail kept an eye out for Castor, weary of her own demon’s approach. She knew Daniel and Lyla were far from special but she had little information on Adil.

Their progression was a sordid one as the stench encroached upon the party. “We should be close,” Daniel said. Abigail couldn’t help the groan of relief at the prospect of ascending to the surface. “The book is near,” Adil said ominously.

If Abigail were honest with herself, she had absolutely no idea what the commoner resistance movement would do with the book. She knew they were searching for something else to accompany the incantation, but she also knew little of what that object could be. “You have the sight?” She inquired. Adil was a tall boy with short black hair and a solemn expression. “Yes, I heard your partner does as well.”

“Partner?” Abigail exclaimed in confusion, forgetting her cover story.

“Yes, I believe her name is Libba, she’s been mentioned before.” Adil assessed her with mild suspicion as his words sunk in, Abigail’s mouth formed a slight “o” as she realized her mistake. “Yes, my girlfriend. I’m sorry, I’m used to referring to her as my girlfriend, partner sounds too formal,” She lied.

“My mistake,” Adil apologized with a bow of his head. “Are you from here Adil?” Abigail wondered aloud. The boy shook his head, “No, originally my family was from Prague but we immigrated here for protection.”

“Protection from what?” Abigail asked. Adil hesitated for a moment before replying with a singular word, “Demons.”

The group halted before a set of rungs leading upwards, the metal was caked in grime and the group was sweating. “Time to go up.”

The climb was a long one, Daniel pushed the grate up and off to the side before pulling himself out. He assisted each of his companions out of the manhole with a firm hand and a cheery smile. They were in a neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. Abigail wanted to guess Hell’s Kitchen. The scent of failure and undesirables seemed to permeate the air around her. “That building,” Adil pointed towards a dilapidated apartment building. The windows were boarded over and the fire escape was falling to pieces. “Looks abandoned to me,” Abigail muttered.

“They’re in there,” Adil repeated with the utmost certainty.

The inside of the building was just as distasteful as the outside. The floors were rotting away, the pipes were showing, and holes lined the walls along with the most terrible wallpaper that Abigail had ever seen. A woman stood off in a corner, her back to a boarded up window, her hair a mess. “Don’t come closer, state who you are.”

“May, right?” Daniel greeted the woman kindly. He held both hands open towards her in surrender. “We’re part of the resistance, we’re here for the book.” The woman studied them all her eyes in suspicious slits. “I thought there would be only four of you,” the woman grumbled.

“We brought Abby here along for observation, she’s new;” Daniel explained. The woman relaxed somewhat. “Okay, I have the book. But before I give it to you I have a request.”

“Now wait here, we have the money for you, that deal was made already. No adding demands.” Daniel’s tone held an edge to it that Abigail had never heard before. “We give you the money you need to get out of the country, get away from the magicians. You give us what we need to make the world a safer place.”

“They have my daughter, please.” The woman whimpered.

“That’s not our problem, besides, she’s probably dead by now anyway. Those magicians are merciless.” Daniel snarled. He was growing impatient. Abigail felt dread bubbling up within her, she could tell things were going south.

“My daughter is alive, she’s with a demon named Bartimaeus;” The woman exclaimed trembling. Abigail finally noticed the satchel slung over the woman’s shoulder. “She’s been placed under a glamor, my daughter is alive. You can have the book but please save my daughter.”

 _Bartimaeus._ The name rang a bell in Abigail’s brain but she couldn’t quite place it. “What’s your daughter’s name?" Abigail asked. Daniel eyed her with mild annoyance but held silent. “Tally, Tally Craven;” The woman stammered. “Okay, just give me the book and we can work something out, I promise;” Abigail would know that name anywhere. Tally had some explaining to do. The woman, Tally’s mother, relaxed for a second. Just enough for Daniel to spring forward, knife in hand. Lyla pulled Abigail back as Daniel attacked Tally's Mother. His knife flashed in the dim light flowing through the boarded windows as it came down on Ms. Craven’s outstretched arm

Just before the blade met the skin of the woman’s hand, a Platypus sprung forward and knocked Daniel down. Shifting in place, the platypus became a winged tiger, it’s curling claws ripping through Daniel's clothing violently. Daniel laughed, his silver knife penetrating the tiger’s skull. Abigail's eyes widened in surprise, he had resistance to magical attack like her. A guttural wail filled the room as the demon began to slump forward.

Abigail stood frozen in shock as Lyla grasped the fabric of her jacket, watching what Daniel did next. Screaming a series of expletives the man began to stab the wailing woman with unparalleled rage. Abigail was able to pick out the words “scum”, “dirty magician”, “witch”, “demon lover”, the torrent of insults washed over the spectators as blood splattered against the walls and onto her shoes. “Scum”, stab. “Dirty”, stab. “Traitor”, stab.

Abigail could feel herself flinching with every sound of metal meeting flesh and bone. Adil stood stock still beside her, eyes wide with horror. When Daniel finally ceased his attack, he brushed the blood from his face, leaving streaks of scarlet down his cheeks. The previously good-natured boy appeared quite the monster, innocent no more. Abigail could taste the bile collecting in the back of her throat. She watched Daniel pull the book from the satchel, eyes alight with his sense of victory.

“Time to go,” he exclaimed cheerily. Abigail and Adil stood frozen in place both equal in appalment. Lyla had released them a while ago, their fear and horror rooting them in place. “Hurry up,” Daniel ordered with a grin. Abigail and Adil followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drink water and if you have any comments I would absolutely love to hear from you.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail and Libba focused chapter.

Libba sat quietly on her couch, clutching a steaming mug of coffee. Abigail had awoken her earlier in the night with a ferocious pounding upon her front door. Once she had ushered the furious girl past the entryway and into the living room Abigail had immediately begun pacing. Restless.

“Would you like to sit down Bellweather?” Libba asked for what felt like the hundredth time. Abigail continued to pace, ignoring the other girl’s qualms. _One step, two-step._ Breathe. _One step, two-step._ Breathe. Abigail’s eyes seemed focused yet far away, the gears in her head churning frenetically.

“Abigail!” Libba snapped, her brow was furrowed in confusion and muffled shock. She had never seen Abigail in such a state. Abigail’s steps halted as she settled uneasily onto Libba’s brown leather couch. “Okay, what happened. Why are you acting like this?”

Abigail’s mouth opened briefly before snapping shut. Her eyes were wide with a hint of fervent distress. “They killed her,” Abigail said hesitantly. Libba’s expression betrayed nothing, waiting on Abigail to explain further. Abigail did so.

Taking a deep breath, Abigail muttered a determined “I am a Bellweather” under her breath and reigned in her emotions. “I went to the meeting without you while you were out at that commoner neighborhood.”

“Dodger neighborhood, but continue;” Libba retorted smoothly. Abigail ignored the interruption, the rhythm of their repartee aiding in the regaining of her composure.

“Tally’s mother was there, apparently Tally is a dodger.” Libba perked an eyebrow up at Abigail’s words but allowed her to resume. “She had the book, there was an incident when they were transferring the book through the underground. A spree agent’s demon tracked them down, apparently in the form of an alligator. There was a fight and the alligator won.”

“So she was Spree?” Libba inquired, Abigail shook her head.

“No, she was there for the commoner resistance. She was trying to get them to save Tally and get her out of our ‘nefarious’ clutches. She must have gotten her hands on the book after, I still don’t know whether she was in league with them before she got involved with the book.”

“Why would a magician get involved with a bunch of magician haters?” Libba wondered aloud.

“Ex-magician, she must not have been that fond of us after she fled with Tally,” Abigail replied bitterly.

“But still, if they hate magicians so much they must have been suspicious of her if she wasn’t involved with them beforehand.” Libba pursed her lips in contemplation, Abigail groaned. “I don’t know, Daniel just started stabbing her and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“You couldn’t break your cover, it’s not your fault;” Libba soothed the other girl. “I could have done something, I chose not to,” Abigail said glumly. Her downcast expression stirred something in Libba, an urge to comfort Abigail came unbidden, Libba laid a pacifying hand over Abigail’s. “You did what you could, they would have killed you too.”

Abigail’s eyes met Libba’s, an understanding was beginning to form between the two of them ever since the beginning of their mission. The break down of their rivalry as they faced the compounded effort of quelling the commoner resistance seemed to bond them together. The falsified intimacy between them layered a level of unexpected trust as they pursued the truth of the many civilian attacks.

The lines seemed to blur for Libba every so often. The fondness she held in her voice during resistance meetings when talking to Abigail became less forced, natural even. The way the other girl smiled at her, the way their fingers tangled together seemed to be second nature now. It was them against the world in some ways. Where Raelle came into the High Atlantic circle later, Abigail and Libba began together.

Forged in the constant pressure of their surrogate mothers, both girls surged towards a life with a vibrance and ambition unmet by their fellows. While Gerit, Augustin, Byron, and Miles passed their days content in their propaganda and entertainment positions, the girls strove for greatness unfounded by their new lines. Bellweather’s and Swythes had run their particular departments for ages since the revolution of the colonies. Since the end of the British Magician Empire, the Bellweathers and Swythe’s had a place in magician society.

Now it was Abigail and Libba who would continue those lines. Their penultimate rivalry oddly driving them together in the current events of the world. Libba hated saying it, but Abigail’s presence in the dreary and hostile environment of the resistance meetings was quite the comfort. “Are you staying the night?” Libba half asked and half offered. Abigail nodded, “They followed me to the building, we told them we lived together, remember?”

Libba’s eyes widened in horror, “They know where I live?” Her previous ruminations on her growing fondness for the other girl dissipated with the new information. “Not really, I gave them an apartment number several floors down from you.”

“But they know the building?” Libba grimaced at the thought, her name was hardly a common one and if the news got out that she was Libba Swythe they might put two and two together. “I’ll have to move,” Libba groaned. “I'll help you pack,” Abigail said monotonously.

Libba sighed. “You know where the guest room is right? Is there anything else or can I sleep?”

“They’re looking for an eye,” Abigail said. Libba cocked her head to the side, thinking. “An eye?” Abigail nodded, “It’s the next item they need. The book is powerful but they need the eye as added protection. That and a cloak.”

“An eye and a cloak, they keep sounding more and more out of a fairy tale.” Libba quipped. Abigail snorted humorously, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I should wash up, I still have blood on me.” The other girl said sorrowfully, Libba studied Abigail’s slouched form, her eyes alighted on flecks of scarlet sprinkled across her body. “I have a shower in my bathroom, come on;” Libba took Abigail’s hand and led her towards her bedroom.

…

Abigail laid restlessly in her bed, the events of the night circulating her mind. While Libba seemed taciturn at first, the girl had softened. Her irritation developing into a quiet consideration as she threaded her finger’s through Abigail’s hair in the bath. Abigail occupied the tub as bubbles frothed about her, Libba sat on the tiled edge her fingers slowly dragging through Abigail’s newly wet locks.

The intimacy of the moment was far from foreign to the two now, their first night with the resistance had been tense once they had arrived in Abigail’s apartment. They were a swirling mass of harsh emotions at the time, Libba still remembered the night and they had folded together. That night had been terrifying for the both of them, their lies felt like lead in their mouths, their deception a second away from discovery. Fear brought them together, so far fear kept them that way.

Abigail knew that they made strange bedfellows. Their master’s hated each other just as their masters before them. Their surrogate families seemed to be at constant war to discredit one another as history passed them by. Medals were won or one-upped, hopes were dashed or achieved, their long bloody history of political intrigue should have driven a stronger wedge between the two. Yet now they needed one another. A mutual need that almost became fondness. Almost.

If she were to be honest Abigail didn’t regret the first kiss they shared, it had taken her by surprise but it had saved them in a way. Libba’s push and harsh words seemed to drum a beat into the recesses of Abigail’s mind within those tunnels so many weeks ago. Seeing red, Abigail had surged forward. Her lips meeting Libba’s with the full intention of shutting the other girl up. When they had been discovered they had been able to use that. Two sexually charged dodger kids was a likelier story than two junior secretaries from the highest accolades of society making out in an underground tunnel.

Besides, Abigail was wroth to admit it but, Libba wasn’t too bad of a kisser.

“Has the water gotten cold yet?” Libba teased, her voice broke Abigail from her reverie. Previously glazed eyes focused on the tiled wall before her. The water had gotten fairly cold. “Yeah, I could get out;” Abigail admitted. Libba handed her a towel and turned respectfully in the other direction. Abigail wrapped herself in the towel and stepped onto the bathmat. “Thanks,” she offered Libba a small smile which the other girl returned. “I have some shorts and a shirt on the vanity. They’re big on me but they’ll probably still be small on you.”

“What no insult?” Abigail chuckled.

“I decided to take pity on you Bedwetter, get dressed. You know where your room is.”

Abigail was unable to prevent the smile that followed, wide and beaming. Libba blinked, a curious expression flashing before Abigail’s line of vision. “Get some rest,” She said softly to Abigail before slipping out the door.


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tally's fate is in question. Abigail comes to a decision. Raelle and Scylla grow closer. Alder may know more than she lets on.

Tally had heard nothing all week. She was barred from all meetings and Raelle was seemingly unneeded as well. A new development for the President’s old apprentice. “Do you think she knows what we’ve been doing?” Tally asked Bartimaeus one day. The djinn shrugged, he was in the form of John Mandrake again. The only fanciful addition to his disguise was a set of delicate antlers that sprouted from his head.

“I don’t know, I’ve felt a presence outside of the apartment a couple of times but I’ve never seen anything,” Bartimaeus replied.

The three had been busy. For the past seven days, the trio had combed through every book left to Raelle by her old master. Willa Collar had been thorough in her work, each excerpt was innocent enough without the next. Out of order, it was a jumbled mess. Some of the passages mentioned a cloak, something special that had been passed down through a mysterious magician family. Others mentioned ominous resistance movements and questionable government practices.

“The last lead for the cloak is tied to Madelyn Swythe,” Tally reiterated for what felt like the tenth time that night. Willa had left them a long winding message about the importance of the cloak, Isis’s Cloak. “ _A mother’s protection, a goddesses power.”_ Willa had claimed. Bartimaeus had followed up the magician’s words with his own excerpt.

“Isis’s cloak, or the Veil of Isis in proper terminology, has been missing for centuries. Its care was trusted to ancient Djinni and Afrits back when the Pyramids were being built. The veil, the eye, the book; all of it contains the divine power of the ancient beings that they’re named after.”

“What happens if they get released?” Tally inquired, the possibility was hardly an appealing one but her own curiosity got the better of her.

“Well, I would surmise that the bonds of reality and time would fold in on itself,” Bartimaeus replied. Tally’s eyes widened in horror, her imagination wandering.

“We won’t let that happen, Tal,” Raelle said obstinately. She was searching through multiple tomes for any mention of the Cloak.

“Look for the word veil, the brits bastardized the proper title, so you could find it under completely different terminology;” Bartimaeus suggested. Raelle continued her search while Tally reviewed Willa Collar’s words, the voice emanating in the room softly.

Raelle had missed the sound of her adoptive mother’s voice. The calm way in which she used to instruct her on the history of spirits and people. The polite way she greeted the spirits she called, as opposed to the brusque manner of her cohorts. Raelle thought of the beings from the Other Side as bastions of history, remnants of worlds, and patterns in society long forgotten. Or at least that’s how Willa taught it.

“They have thoughts and feelings of their own Raelle, some of them can be quite vengeful. Be respectful and they won’t be as harsh.”

Raelle took all of her old master’s words to heart, storing them away for future reference. She referred to them heavily in her beginning days with Bart. Their bond now seemed unbreakable. While the other spirits were not as open, Bartimaeus gave her a chance.

A knock on the door broke through Raelle’s reverie, her eyes flickering towards the entryway before settling on the stooped form of Tally. The redhead was hunched over a mountain of books, the voice of Willa swirling around them like a low playing record. Tally shut the book. Raelle moved towards the door.

In the doorway was a stony-faced Abigail and Libba. Both women stood stoically at the door, arms crossed and unmoving. “Aren’t you going to let me in?” Abigail snapped, Raelle chanced a glance at Tally and Bartimaeus who were in the process of hiding all the books and notes they had taken. A couple of unlucky tomes were shoved under the couch. “You can stop hiding all the books, I know you’re in the process of teaching Tally magic,” Abigail shouted from the doorway. Tally dropped all the tomes in shock, leaving the poor spirit to scrabble for all the fallen tomes.

“Let her in,” Tally exclaimed. Raelle stepped to the side.

…

Abigail slumped onto the couch with Libba close on her heels, both of them were unamused with the demon’s antics as he fluttered about them. The book piles were tidied and the notes were tucked away in Raelle’s study. Tally sat across from the pair, fidgeting with a cardigan sleeve.

“Why shouldn’t I turn you in?” Abigail said brusquely. Tally flinched, her eyes downcast, focused on her feet. “Please don’t, it was my Mom, she wanted to keep me and so she did.”

“With gifts like yours you could have gone far, you could have helped us find the resistance before this all started,” Abigail admonished, Tally, shook her head. “No I couldn’t have, if you haven’t found them yet I wouldn’t have been able to do anything different, it’s not fair for you to pin that all on me.”

“Besides, all she has are eyes, her true magical talent is yet to be seen,” Bartimaeus added. Abigail bristled at the demon’s gall, she resented Raelle’s lack of control over her servant’s mouth. “I wasn’t talking to you,” she sneered at the antlered boy.

“How did you find out Tally was a dodger?” Raelle broke in, her tone was worried, suspicious. Abigail flinched before it, the image of a flashing knife painted behind her eyelids. For a moment her gaze softened as she assessed the redhead, the girl who was oblivious to her own mother’s fate.

Libba delivered the blow for her. “Tally, your mother is dead. She was killed by the resistance.” Tally’s reaction was expected to be instantaneous, but instead, it came about slowly. Her shoulders slumped, a trembling frown and the shaking of her body as small choked sobs overcame her. Raelle took up residence beside the girl, pulling the redhead into her arms as tears soaked her shirt.

“How did you know it was Tally’s mother?” Bartimaeus inquired in place of the girl. Abigail remained silent, reluctant to answer the questions of any demon. “Answer him,” Raelle said coldly.

“She said so, she was trying to get the Resistance to return you to her,” Abigail answered curtly. Tally shook with another sob, Abigail scuffed the toe of her shoe awkwardly against the carpet. “We haven’t turned you in yet,” Libba added. “We wanted to hear your side of things, it’s only fair since it wasn’t necessarily your actions that made you a dodger.”

Abigail and Libba peered at Tally expectantly, waiting for the crying to die down before the girl answered. Raelle and the demon sat close near Tally, Raelle hugging her and the demon crouched on her shoulder in the shape of a guinea pig.

“I never should have gone to that party,” Tally murmured so low that Abigail could barely hear it. Raelle’s eyes settled on her friend in understanding, she too knew what it was like to lose a mother. “I only wanted to see what life was like for people like you, my mother kept me from magical society for my safety but I wouldn’t listen. If I had only –“ The girl broke off, tears flooding her brown eyes. Abigail shifted uncomfortably, Libba pressed her knee against Abigail’s in a modicum of support.

“Were you aware of your mother’s ties to the resistance?” Abigail questioned. Tally shook her head. “We just hid, we were commoners. I hid my sight and my mom sent me to school, I made friends. I was normal.”

“Your mother had the book, do you know how she could have gotten it?”

Tally shook her head, no, she could not come up with a single reason on why her mother would have the Book of Thoth. She had never heard of resistance outside of the Spree until Abigail and Libba had mentioned it.

“Am I going to prison?” Tally asked, her voice was quiet, resigned.

Libba turned to look at Abigail as if to ask the same question. She had yet to discover Abigail’s motive for confrontation, the past week had been filled with private briefings between them and General Quartermaine. Abigail had debated telling the General everything, but she withheld the truth each time for some inexplicable reason.

Abigail remained silent for a moment, pondering her choices before coming to a decision. “No, I won’t report you.” The trio across from her let out a deep breath of relief. “So what are you going to do?” Bartimaeus queried.

“I saw your mother die at the hands of a commoner." Abigail paused, "While I don’t condone her actions in hiding you, I won’t bring the truth to the President's attention. However, now that I’m complicit in your lies, I’m taking over your education from these two.” Abigail gestured towards the demon and it’s master dismissively.

“You can’t learn the truth about magicians through the likes of a demon, and I’ve heard Raelle is supposed to be making a trip to London soon with Scylla. That means you’re staying with me.” Abigail said all of this with such acute haughtiness that all Bartimaeus and Raelle could do was gawk at the girl’s nerve.

“I’ve been teaching her perfectly fine thank you,” Bartimaeus sneered in the shape of a bird, his feathers had ruffled themselves in indignation. “Bart’s supposed to stay with Tally and be her protection, I’ve arranged it with him and everything;” Raelle said.

“Well dismiss him, Castor, and I can protect Tally fine. If I’m helping her hide the truth then she better learn how to be a magician the right way. No offense to your weird demon handling methods Raelle.” Abigail’s contemptuous attitude irked Raelle but she remained silent. She wasn’t about to ruin anything for Tally and get on Abigail’s bad side.

“I haven’t been called in for a briefing so I was unaware of my upcoming trip,” Raelle said, she offered both High Atlantic girls a forced smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s been arranged with Scylla, she’s supposed to come and talk to you soon.” At the end of Abigail’s sentence, a light knock sounded. “Come in!” Raelle called out, Scylla pushed the door open and stopped in the doorway.

“Is this a bad time?” She asked a smirk replaced the surprise that crossed her face moments before. “No, come on in. You’re a dodger right?” Abigail said in a blasé manner.

“Used to be, why?” Scylla’s expression took on a dangerous element.

“No reason, I just remember you slipping past a life sentence by the skin of your teeth.”

“So what’s your point?” Scylla said through gritted teeth.

“How’d you get discovered?” Abigail asked. Scylla’s jaw tightened before her mouth opened to answer. “Okay,” Raelle broke in. She could see the fury in Scylla’s body as the question brought up unpleasant memories. “Abigail, you can take Tally as you wanted. My only requirement is that she takes Bart with her. Scylla, I heard we’re going on a trip?” Abigail conceded to Raelle's demand and watched the two women leave, Raelle grabbing her coat on the way out.

…

Raelle had ushered Scylla from her apartment, leaving instructions with Bartimaeus to watch over Tally. A task he took willingly, his own concern evident for the despondent girl. “I’ll make sure she laughs every once in a while,” the djinn had offered. Raelle gave him a smile and a pat on the head before he fluttered back to Tally’s shoulder.

Scylla and Raelle made their way to a park, their magician identity cards tucked into pockets. Ever since the bombing of a commoner neighborhood, a curfew had been put in place. Only those who held government ID were allowed out past ten.

Scylla walked beside her, their arms locked together at the elbow, hands in their jacket pockets. Snow drifted down in minuscule flakes, flecking their hair and eyelashes. “Why was Abigail asking about me being a dodger?” Scylla inquired, her voice was controlled, careful.

Raelle sighed, “I guess you’re hardly likely to turn us in. Tally was a dodger too, her mom got killed a couple of nights ago with ties to the resistance.” Her answer took Scylla by surprise, the new information causing the brunette’s eyes to widen. “Wow, do they know which resistance?”

“The commoner one, not Spree;” Raelle answered. Scylla nodded solemnly, “I’m sorry for her loss. The commoner resistance seems obstinate in their hatred for magicians, but they don’t know everything we protect them from.”

“Now you sound like Abigail,” Raelle chuckled.

“It’s true though, through all the lies and controversy that surrounds Alder, that part is true. Without us to control the demons, they could overrun us. I’ve seen it happen.”

“Seen what happen?” Raelle inquired, her stride halted in place, Scylla was tugged backward a pace by Raelle’s sudden stop. Raelle watched her companion search for the proper words, her mouth opening, and closing every so often as sentences began and ended at the tip of her tongue.

“My parents were possessed by demons,” Scylla said.

“I’m sorry, I thought they were executed for being dodgers.” Scylla shook her head at Raelle’s words, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “In a way, they were,” Scylla muttered. Raelle removed her hand from her pocket and pinched the point of Scylla’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “You don’t have to talk about it,” she said in understanding. Scylla nodded and took Raelle’s hand in her own.

“So London, what’s our cover story for this mission?” Raelle changed the subject, their arms were swinging together now. “We’re a couple and we work for the Met. Supposedly we have an Egyptian exhibit coming out soon and want more information.”

“A couple huh?” Raelle teased, she spun Scylla under her arm. They were in the park now, fingers intertwined, pressing closer and closer into one another for warmth. “Yeah, made the story more convincing,” Scylla smirked. They both smiled at each other warmly, their feet scuffing against the pavement.

“How realistic are we going for?” Raelle grinned, the pair had stopped by a dimly lit lamppost and a large tree. The branches curved above them, the snow collecting upon its leaves and limbs. Scylla’s smile was radiant, her blue eyes glittered with mischief, and Raelle’s reflected hope. While it had only been a week or two officially, their first night under the stars held a place in both their hearts. “I think I could stand for a commitment to the act,” Scylla dallied much to Raelle’s delight.

Raelle leaned forward and pressed her lips against Scylla’s in a chaste kiss. “Was that real enough?” Raelle goaded. Scylla tossed her head from side to side in a ‘no’. “I think we need to add a little more heat,” Scylla said before stepping forward and pressing her mouth to Raelle’s once more.

This kiss was more passionate, more exploratory, more…, just more. Raelle pulled Scylla closer as the snowdrifts and cold faded away into their peripheries. Scylla’s tongue swept into Raelle’s mouth skillfully before the girl began to suck gently on Raelle’s bottom lip. One of Raelle’s hands cupped Scylla’s cheek while the other was settled respectfully upon Scylla’s waist. Scylla’s arms were looped about Raelle’s shoulders, their bodies pressed together. Raelle could feel the beginnings of a fire in the base of her stomach.

“Well hello,” Byron’s voice broke through the moment, shattering it like glass. Raelle stepped away from Scylla sheepishly, their hands immediately clasping together in a permanent link. “Pleasure to see you around Raelle,” Byron grinned. He held a hot dog in one hand while the other was settled snugly in a pocket. A green imp sat hunched on his shoulder making obscene expressions at the couple.

“Hey By, this is – “

“Scylla Ramshorn, nice to meet you;” Scylla offered the boy her hand and a polite smile. Byron took it delightedly, giving it a firm shake. “Scylla, I’ve heard so much about you!” The boy’s grin seemed to stretch a mile wide as he looked the brunette up and down approvingly. “Wow, I always knew you two would make the perfect pair. When did you two finally get together?”

Raelle opened her mouth but Scylla answered first, “We’ve technically known about each other for two years now, it’s only now that we’ve started really getting to know each other further.”

“I thought you learned plenty about each other on that first meeting,” Byron teased. Both girls blushed in response, the reddening of their cheeks a point of pride for the boy. “Well, I was only going for a walk when I saw the telltale braids of Raelle so I thought I’d say hello. Didn’t want to impose,” Byron’s words were smooth and composed, his polite expression hiding the inner joy he undoubtedly felt at being right.

“I’ll leave you two alone to get to know each other some more, Raelle I expect an update on when I see you next. It’s about time you got a girlfriend.” Byron bid them adieu before doing an about-face and walking in the opposite direction. Scylla and Raelle stood self-consciously, hands linked together in solidarity.

…

They arrived back in Raelle’s apartment, both of them tumbling promptly into bed in a hurricane of clothing and kisses. The broken moment caused by Byron was long forgotten. The warmth of Raelle created a limbo for Scylla’s heartbeat as it cycled between calm and thundering. The ministrations of the blonde creating a harsh tempo in her chest. Raelle was attentive and teasing, soft and rough. Scylla loved every second of it, the mission was clouded over by the moment. Fading into the background as her mind focused on Raelle's movements.

When Byron had mentioned the moment shared so long ago by Raelle and her, she had felt her heart swell. It was a foreign feeling, the fluttering of butterflies and pride when Raelle looked at her was astounding in a way. The idea that Raelle talked about her to anyone, even Byron felt like a victory. The smile that came unbidden to her face, the way she felt at peace when Raelle’s hand was wrapped in hers. Some days it was easy to forget why she had begun her relationship with Raelle in the first place. Some days she wanted to forget.

They laid out together in the bed, sheets tangled about their linked bodies as Scylla used Raelle’s arm as a pillow. She could feel Raelle’s hand massaging her hip with the pad of a thumb, absentmindedly drawing patterns. “So about what Byron said,” Raelle murmured.

“Please don’t tell me you were thinking about Byron the entire time, I refuse to believe I failed to distract you.”

Raelle laughed lightly at her antics, but her smile quickly dropped and was replaced with a sullen concentration.

“It’s not bad,” the blonde said. Scylla rolled her eyes playfully, “Then what is it?”

“Don’t laugh,” Raelle muttered.

“I won’t,” Scylla responded with mock solemnity. “Pinky swear,” Scylla extended her hand, the thin finger poking out as a promise. “What are we, five?” Raelle teased but took the offered digit nonetheless. “I hope he didn’t scare you with the girlfriend talk.” Raelle murmured.

“Why would that scare me?” Scylla asked. Raelle shrugged, “I don’t want you to think that I’m obsessed with you or anything. I’ve only mentioned our night together a year ago once or twice, I didn’t even know it was you.”

“You’re not obsessed with me? Oops, time to call off the police,” Scylla teased. Raelle groaned, “You said you wouldn’t laugh.” Scylla suppressed her smile and replaced it with a scowl, “Better?”

“Much.”

Scylla returned to smiling, her hand settling upon Raelle’s face as her thumb traced the scar that ran along the other girl’s jaw. “If it helps, I’d love to be your girlfriend;” Scylla said sincerely. The words came out before she had a chance to reconsider, the fluttering in her chest getting in the way of sense and logic. Raelle’s eyes lit up with a child’s wonder, her smile expanding until it touched and crinkled her eyes. Scylla wanted to see that smile for the rest of her life.

“Really?” Raelle questioned, the hope in her voice was heartbreaking in a way. It was also tinged with doubt. Scylla wanted to kick in the teeth of whoever put that doubt there. “Really,” Scylla repeated with not an ounce of regret in her voice. Alarms went off in the back of her mind but something stronger than her fear overruled it. Scylla leaned in when Raelle did, their lips meeting in the middle, their foreheads coming to rest against each other during breaks.

The rest of the night is slow and wonderful. The rest of the night is there’s.

…

The President assessed herself in the mirror while Anacostia gave her report. She sat calmly upon a leather chair, a glass of wine on the front end of Alder’s desk. “I believe Scylla is responsible for Porter’s death, I don’t have enough evidence yet but I have strong suspicions.”

“And Tally, how do you surmise she has escaped our notice for so long?” Alder questioned.

“Her mother made her dodge, simple as that. Too bad we can’t find her to face trial though,” Anacostia sighed, her tone was a lamentable one. As though she truly pitied the woman.

“My sources say that Tally’s mother is dead,” Alder informed the other woman, “The girls are scrambling to teach Tally our ways and I’m wont to let them. Raelle is a smart girl, I taught her myself, and Tally’s gifts are impressive. The two can do much together to help us fight the Spree and this other resistance.”

Anacostia nodded her head in agreement, listening attentively. “I want you to disregard your investigation of Scylla for now, keep an eye on her but do not engage. I believe she could lead Raelle to something, maybe we can learn more about the Spree’s plans through her. For now, I want you to focus on the Eye.”

“The eye ma’am?” Anacostia inquired. Alder nodded imperiously, “The Eye of Horus, the Veil of Isis, and the Book of Thoth. All three relics must be obtained, each symbolizes the three magical protections that some humans get. The eye is sight, the ability to see through all planes. The Veil is resistance, the ability to withstand all magical attacks. The Book of Thoth, the knowledge to weave reality itself and bend it’s creatures to our will.”

“Wouldn’t the Eye count for two gifts, everyone has the ability to learn magic theoretically;” Anacostia pointed out. Alder shook her head, “The knowledge should only belong to the select few, the ability to divine demons. The eye allows you to truly read the book, the cloak protects you from the power within. You cannot work one without the other. We need that book General, I made you my Secretary of War for a reason.”

“And that is?” Anacostia said unperturbed. “I don't care what forces you have to wage war on, just get me that eye and get me that book, General." 


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes out Bellweather.

Raelle and Scylla stood outside the Tower in London, their hands clasped and eyes staring upwards in wonder. The two women had traversed the city all day, buying from newspaper stands and coffee shops. Their couple story went off without a hitch, the magician presence in London had fallen since the days of Gladstone and John Mandrake.

A statue of both men stood on either side of the tower, each holding the staff that was central to their deeds. “John Mandrake broke the power of the magicians and the system here, then Kathleen Jones, a commoner took over,” Scylla sighed deeply as they stared at the memorials to London’s history. “Bart always said that Kathleen Jones was right, the people like John Mandrake couldn’t continue the way they were," Raelle said.

“Your demon was right in that, they couldn’t continue the way they were. They chose magicians from the general populace, infants that passed simple tests and had no gifts. Kathleen Jones should have been the great magician, John Mandrake was nothing more than an educated civilian.” Scylla’s expression softened for a moment, “Besides, I think it was unfair that the parents had to give up their child. We lose so much personal heritage when we lose our parents. It’s not fair.”

“What was your family like?” Raelle asked. Scylla leaned into Raelle slightly, her head resting on the blonde's shoulder. “They were nice, smart too. They taught me almost everything I know about magic, summoning demons that is. Izadora was good to me but she didn’t teach me nearly as much as my parents did,” she paused, “It wasn’t the same.”

“How long until we meet the contact?” Scylla inquired, she was anxious to move the topic to anything other than her parents. “Soon, we meet in front of John Mandrake’s statue when the clock strikes twelve,” Raelle said all this while squinting at her watch, the reflection on the face of it nearly blinding her. “We just need an escort into the Tower’s archives and private museum.”

“Yeah, maybe we can learn about the other artifacts, like where the eye could be.” Scylla murmured. Raelle shrugged, “I don’t expect a lot, London is great but a lot of their artifacts were sold to the highest bidder a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean there isn’t more to be found;” Scylla replied. Her eyes focused in on a figure that was approaching them, it was a thin man carrying a black umbrella. He wore a bright red petticoat and a thick handkerchief.

“Hello ladies, my name is Jeffrey Stone!” The man greeted them politely. Scylla felt little magical energy emanating from the man. “Follow me” Jeffrey chirped as he led the way towards the tower.

…

The inside of the tower was well furnished with a modern aesthetic. A minimalist style had come into vogue and occupied many of the spaces that Scylla and Raelle frequented. Jeffrey guided them towards an elevator, a keycard in hand. “We have to go to the basement for the archives;” Jeffrey explained as he swiped the plastic card on a keypad and pressed a button labeled B4.

The elevator ride was a short one, the doors slid open smoothly. The tiled floors were a brilliant white, the walls decorated with ornately framed artwork. We have some of the best paintings down here, most of the ones you see frequenting museums are copies.” Jeffrey preened.

After a short walk down a corridor, Jeffrey ushered them through a set of glass double doors and into a waiting area. “One of the archivists will see to you shortly,” Jeffrey bade them adieu before exiting the room.

“You really think we’re going to find crucial information in a shiny overhyped basement?” Raelle quipped, her eyes assessed the room with trepidation. “Well, they didn’t send anything powerful to get us at least, there was barely any magical signature on him.”

“I think he was a djinn of some kind,” Raelle muttered.

“What makes you say that?” Scylla inquired.

“There was a resonance, of some kind. I could feel it, it was really faint, and there was something about the eyes.”

“I didn’t feel anything,” Scylla said, she bit her lower lip, deep in thought. “We’ll stay on guard. Whatever you saw, we’ll figure it out.”

“If it was from the other side I’d usually see it, I can see the true form of any djinn or being that comes into our world. This time it looked human, but something felt off,” Raelle’s tone was uncertain, the possibilities were dire indeed if she was right. “We’ll figure it out,” Scylla offered Raelle a small smile and squeezed her hand.

“Hi, you must be Emily and Diane,” an older woman tottered in. Her movements were halting and slow, her back hunched over a cane. “Hi,” Scylla waved to the older woman with her free hand. “I’m Constance Greebly,” the older woman held out a trembling hand that Raelle took. The woman’s hand was cold to the touch.

“Well, shall we begin?” Constance gestured for them to follow her, an odd look on her face. Raelle and Scylla rose, following in the old woman’s wake.

…

Abigail and Libba’s lessons were very different from Raelle and Bartimaeus’s. For one, Abigail seemed derisive at best of her otherworldly servants. Her lip was at a permanent curl in Bartimaeus’s presence, and Libba wasn’t much better. When Abigail wasn’t arguing with Bartimaeus she was verbally abusing Libba, who seemed to take great joy in giving it right back. The relationship was confusing, to say the least for Tally.

“So, do they hate each other or like each other?” She asked Bartimaeus one day. The djinni shrugged as he laid out on the floor in the shape of a dark-skinned boy he said was Ptolemy. One of the great magicians of history. “Beats me kid, I think they have some tension to work out at least.”

Tally was put on a fast track for magic lessons, Libba and Abigail drilling her endlessly on pentacles and the many languages required for summoning. It had barely been a week before Abigail demanded that Tally summon her first foliot. Bartimaeus had laid in wait, ready to protect Tally at the drop of a hat. The fur on his guinea pig form only relaxed once the other being had been sufficiently dismissed.

The days seemed to blur by as Tally’s lessons continued. There were some days where she was left to stay in Abigail’s ostentatious townhouse. Libba and Abigail continued their clandestine quest of infiltration concerning the resistance, neither of them leaving the other’s side in the field since the death of Tally’s mother.

Some day’s Anacostia visited, in which case Tally and Bartimaeus would hide all the books she was using for lessons. Anacostia’s visits were often accompanied with questions about Raelle and Scylla, their relationship seemed a matter of importance to Anacostia.

Other days, Tally perused the books Bart brought over from Raelle’s apartment. A story began to unfold as Tally continued her research into Willa Collar. It was the third day of Abigail and Libba’s absence that Tally found the most interesting secret yet.

“Bart!” Tally called out to the djinn. Bartimaeus had been sprawled out in front of the fireplace playing with a small ball of fire, tossing it into the air before catching it. “Yeah, what’s up?” Bartimaeus said, quickly extinguishing fire he rolled over onto his side to face Tally. “Willa is Raelle’s mom!” Tally exclaimed.

“Yeah, I know. Adopted Mom and all,” Bartimaeus groaned rolling onto his back once more.

“No, she’s biologically Raelle’s Mom, she hid Raelle’s existence from the world and then claimed her as an apprentice.”

Bartimaeus rose an eyebrow but resumed his single-player game of catch. “Magicians conniving and scheming, what else is new. Probably the reason she was killed.”

“She wasn’t the only one, there are a large number of officials that have done the same thing, or at least that’s what Willa said.” Tally traced the rune on the corner of the page, listening once more. “She says that the practice has been overlooked by the government by its power for a long time, the most prominent participants being the –“ Tally hesitated for a second before her eyes widened once more. “Bellweather’s.”

...

Constance was a monster, and Scylla meant that in the most literal way possible. 

Raelle and Scylla had followed the old woman into a private room where they were given a large tome to read through. "We have this book but we aren't quite sure how much help it is," the old woman had prattled before setting an overly large book in front of the pair. Raelle and Scylla had flipped through the book together while Constance hovered in the background, it wasn't until they found a rune in the corner of a page that they made any headway. Raelle sucked in a sharp breath and traced her finger over the rune, Scylla leaning in. 

Instead of the usual auditory message that accompanied the runes both Scylla and Raelle were stricken with a set of images flashing before their eyes. An understanding taking hold of them as the message was received. _A veil passed through a temple._ The scene changed. _A family name attached to the veil, written in hieroglyphs._ Scene change. _The family's travels, fleeing the destruction of their temples. Passing to another tribe._ Scene change. _An insignia, a crest. A family they know so well._

The vision ended, Scylla and Raelle blinked the images away before their eyes met in excitement, "Bellweather!" they exclaimed together. Their simultaneous exclamation was met with an untimely detonation that blew then back into a wall. Raelle felt the cement crack against her back as she slammed into it, the concrete clouding the air. Scylla laid flat on the floor, her eyes closed. Knocked out. Raelle coughed slightly but rose to her feet, her eyes stung from the dust. "A sturdier human than I expected," the old woman grumbled. A green flame surrounded her left hand, the other clutched her cane. 

"What are you?" Raelle grimaced, there was a sharp pain in her side. 

"The same thing you are it seems, even a resilient shouldn't have survived that impact." Constance flashed a malevolent grin before hurling another detonation. However, she wasn't aiming for Raelle. The old woman was aiming at the ceiling, as concrete tumbled down on top of them Raelle lunged for Scylla's prone form and hovered over her. The concrete came down in chunks, some of them hitting Raelle's back. Raelle stayed curled over Scylla, her heart racing. 

Once the dust had settled, Raelle moved from her spot over Scylla and began to move some of the rubble away. As she was working she saw Scylla shift out of the corner of her eye. 

"What happened?" Scylla groaned massaging the back of her head. 

"I think Constance was possessed by a creature from the other side," Raelle grunted in reply, she was sifting through the rubble that blocked the door. "Raelle, don't bother moving it, we can climb over;" Scylla said. Raelle looked up towards the rafters, the mountain of obliterated concrete led up towards the next floor. "Yeah," she sighed, "you're right." Raelle halted her efforts and looked back towards Scylla. "How are you feeling, you were out for a long time." 

"Sore all over and not in a good way but I'm alive," Scylla replied. Her clothes were covered in the white powder of the concrete. "Do you have a demon on call? I think we'll need to fight our way out if there are any more left in the building."

"I can call one, just give me a moment." Raelle took a deep breath before uttering a quick incantation and completing a hand gesture. A black cat materialized before her, its eyes were a brilliant green. "Sorry Bart, I hope I wasn't interrupting." 

"No problem, I had some new gossip for you anyway. Boy, you look worse for wear, did you pick a fight with a building?" The cat assessed Raelle with an inquisitive eye, its mouth curling up into a teasing smile. "What can I help you with?" 

"I hate to pull you into combat, but some djinni has possessed some people in the building. I would appreciate help getting out," Raelle explained, her tone was almost guilty. Bartimaeus flicked his long black tail slightly before heaving a sigh, "Well I'm not gonna leave you to die. Hope she can fend for herself though." The panther nodded towards Scylla who had summoned a large brown bear. "Alfos, your charge is to defend me and Collar as we exit the building. Anyone that attacks us is to be met with extreme use of force, got it?" The bear nodded solemnly before turning into a falcon and soaring out of the hole. 

"I'll stick to you kid," Bartimaeus exclaimed, his form shifted into a sugar glider. Scylla watched as the demon crawled up Raelle's arm and settled on her shoulder. "Let's go," Scylla approached the pile of concrete and began to climb, Raelle springing up right beside her. 

Their ascent through the tower was a long one, their respective servants deflecting detonations by possessed attendants as they went. A couple of times Raelle leaped in front of a detonation meant for Scylla, using her own resilient body as a shield, much to Scylla and Bartimaeus's dismay. 

"Stop doing that, protecting her is Alfos's job;" Bartimaeus griped once after sending a great ball of fire down a hallway and into the face of an oncoming possessed body. Raelle looked away as the skin began to melt from the skull. "I can take it," Raelle retorted. Alfos took a nearby chair and hurled it at a nearby opponent with enough force to crack open the human's skull. "Gross," Raelle muttered as blood splattered the walls. 

"Scyl, watch out!" Raelle shouted she shoved the girl out of the way as a marble statue came hurtling at them. A foot from Raelle's back Bartimaeus hit the bust with a potent detonation that turned the stony depiction to dust. "Collar!" Scylla and Bartimaeus snapped simultaneously. "Stop protecting me, you're gonna get yourself killed." 

"I second Miss Ramshorn's motion, if you do that again I'm dragging you out of here by your neck and leaving Alfos to defend her," Bartimaeus threatened. Raelle relented and remained close to Bartimaeus for the remainder of the tower. 

Their exit from the tower was a challenging one, Jeffrey's charred remains laid out on the welcome mat as Bartimaeus and Alfos blew smoke from their fingers. Both had sent their strongest detonations at the man as soon as they saw the glow of the man's eyes. Scylla and Raelle rushed out, Alfos bringing up the rear. 

"So what's the gossip you wanted to tell me?" Raelle inquired. They were sitting at a local cafe, Bartimaeus in the shape of Ptolemy and Alfos in the shape of a tall brawny man named Alexios. "I'll tell you later kid," the dark-skinned boy said, his eyes flickered to Scylla as she whispered orders to Alfos. "Well, I have a message for you then. Scylla and I discovered that the veil has something to do with Bellweather, I want you to relay the information to Abigail and Anacostia." 

Bartimaeus let out a hefty sigh of relief. "That's one of the things I had to tell you, glad you know though. No worries about Abigail, I'm sure she's fine back in the states. I'll tell you the rest of what we discovered later though!" Bartimaeus gave a jaunty wave and disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever you leave comments I get really motivated to update, so if you have any questions or thoughts please feel free to share! Also, my twitter is @MarxZerelda


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Libba is jealous. Abigail and Libba meet a questionable ally. Tally discovers a much larger threat. The beginnings of a plan starts to form.

Libba was most definitely not having a good time. The resistance meetings were a hub of activity since they had gotten ahold of the book once more. Now the group was searching for something called the Eye of Horus. Supposedly once they had the Eye their plans would come to fruition, although according to Libba and Abigail’s intel the Veil of Isis was also required if the summoner expected to survive.

Adil became the target of Abigail’s intelligence gathering since the boy took a liking to her. Libba on the other hand mingled with the entirety of the resistance cell while keeping a perpetual eye on her partner. They still held hands and kissed in front of the commoners, but since their last briefing, things had been strained between them.

Both their masters were pressuring the other to get results first. Credit was important, the prestige that accompanied a collar by Libba was undoubtedly an exciting prospect, but her relationship with Abigail was getting increasingly complicated. She hated to admit it, but she enjoyed Abigail’s company. Although right now she wanted to punch the other girl in the arm.

Abigail was leaning against a wall facing Adil and giving him a look that made Libba’s jaw clench. _Shitbird._ The words were internal ones but they failed to appease her seething. Abigail was supposed to look at Libba like that, if she continued to flirt with Adil, their cover would be blown. Then what?

Libba let out a breath of relief when Abigail left Adil and made her way through the crowd to Libba’s side. “Come on, we’re meeting the resistance’s secret weapon,” Abigail exclaimed. Abigail’s fingers linked up with Libba’s, her expression smug. “Also, don’t think I didn’t see you glaring daggers at Adil, he’s not that bad.”

“Since when did you like commoners?” Libba muttered under her breath.

Abigail halted, mid-step, and cast a furtive eye over the buzzing group of people. Relieved that no one had heard Libba she resumed her efforts in wading through the room, “Adil is taking us to his place to meet his sister, she’s important to the resistance’s plans.” She said all this breezily tugging Libba in the direction of the waiting Adil. 

…

Adil’s home bordered Chinatown, the dilapidated apartment building had a coating of grime that Abigail and Libba were unaccustomed to in a place of living. Adil led them into the building, the lights flickered and cast a yellowish shade upon their complexion. The elevator had an “Out of Order” sign taped to the doors.

“That’s been there for a while,” Adil said in way of explanation. 

Adil led them up a long winding staircase and into an apartment that could only be described as ‘cozy.’ “Home sweet home,” Adil said under his breath as he ushered them into the apartment. The door entered immediately into the main room with a couch and coffee table, both of which were situated before an old television set. Abigail could barely remember seeing one so old. An antenna was attached to the small window that overlooked a fire escape.

The walls were a dull green and a small girl with long brown hair was laid out on the couch, absolutely still.

“You brought guests Adil?” The girl said, her voice was high but carried an air of authority. The air around her crackled with enough magical energy that it made Libba stiffen as her ears began to ring. “Khalida, meet Libba and Abigail. They’re friends.”

Khalida assessed the two women imperiously, her eyes were shrewd as she gave them a once over. “You will do,” the girl said curtly as she rose to a sitting position.

“We’ll do what?” Abigail remarked with a hint of unease.

“I saw your face when Daniel killed that woman, you’re not like the others.” Adil exclaimed, “You don’t like the way the Camarilla is handling things. You want change, but not like they do.”

“I thought she was their secret weapon,” Abigail said pointing at the little girl on the couch.

“I’m supposed to be, as far as they know,” Khalida replied. “Adil and I come from a family of many traditions, some of which our fellow rebels would frown upon.”

“Such as?” Libba inquired. The magical field around the girl was unsettling.

Khalida turned towards Libba and offered a small smile before her eyes began to glow faintly and the air started to buzz. “I am their worst nightmare,” the girl said in a high and echoing voice.

Abigail and Libba stumbled back in horror, demon possession was the biggest threat the magician world could face since the events of the Demon Rebellion. John Mandrake’s efforts to end the debacle had been successful but fear of a repeat had resulted in a tight leash on all of demonkind.

“She’s – “ Abigail stammered out while Libba took a defensive step in front of her, a glare settling on the possessed child.

“It’s a mutual partnership that my family practices. It’s not possession, Khalida is still Khalida, she simply formed a bond with an afrit and they decided to partner for as long as Khalida lives.” Adil said all of this quickly, placing himself between Libba’s threatening stance and Khalida’s.

“They are scared of spirits Adil, they can’t help us if all they know is fear,” Khalida stated.

“We just need help, Khalida and I are trying to get the book out of Resistance hands. We’ve been keeping an eye on anti-magician sentiment. That’s why we joined that group, to begin with. You’re not like them though, you don’t want anyone to die. I saw it in your eyes, Abigail.”

“So what do you want from us? Help you get the book and then what?” Libba demanded. Abigail attempted to push herself in front of Libba as Khalida’s stare hardened but the smaller woman wouldn’t budge.

“Our family are the keepers of Thoth’s Book, we simply want to return it home where it belongs,” Adil explained.

“Keepers?” Abigail inquired.

“We partner with the spirits of the Other Side to ensure both our worlds remain intact. Their world bends the fabric of ours in on itself, and our world is torture for them to remain in for too long. There’s a balance that we all must partake in,” Khalida said.

“So, we return the book to you and you just take it home?” Abigail asked, skeptical of the siblings’ answer. “That’s it?” Libba added.

Both Adil and Khalida nodded. “Our family is an old one, it has been our job to guard the book for centuries, we have lost touch with the other families but we have always upheld our guardianship until now.”

“How did the book even get to the states?” Libba asked.

“The guard was killed by a mercenary, someone from your government sent it. Or at least that’s all we were able to discover so far, everything here seems quite, what’s the word? Clandestine?” Adil said.

“Didn’t you say you left your home because of demons?” Abigail remarked.

“In a way we did, we do not call the spirits of the Other Side demons, demons suggests some form of malevolence or something to fear. The greatest monsters that we have found are the ones that look like us. People,” Adil answered.

…

Tally had learned many things since she had arrived at Abigail’s home. Never eat on the couch, never eat in bed, never eat in the study, never consume a meal anywhere but in a room made for eating, and never summon a spirit without the proper supervision. A rule she was breaking at that moment.

Bartimaeus had been absent for the last three days, and Abigail had left with Libba for the night. Tally was supposed to wait for Bartimaeus to return but she was far too impatient to wait, so she decided to summon Amiones herself.

It had been a long argument from Bartimaeus but she wanted to attempt summoning the spirit that her mother had summoned before her death. While the spirit was supposedly dead, stabbed in the head with a silver knife, Bartimaeus had reluctantly claimed that spirits weren’t necessarily like people in methods of death. Since they take on so many forms, there isn’t a specific spot that has to be a head, so it wouldn’t always be an instant kill when stabbed.

Tally decided to test her theory by finding the incantation for Amiones and getting to work.

Tally had the required rosemary and pentacle prepared, the candles were lit around her chalk-drawn circle. She sat in the middle with the book containing Amiones’s incantation settled on her lap. As she read the words she prayed to all the good gods above that the spirit wouldn’t find any way out of its bond. If it did, she had little to defend herself with, considering her lack of inborn resistance.

Once she had finished she waited a moment, watching for any disturbance. Suddenly, a magical aura appeared floating within the opposing pentacle. Invisible to the naked eye, Tally was left to watch the djinn circle it’s pentacle in the shape of a technicolored mist.

“Hi,” Tally said, the mist stopped all movement. Waiting. “I’m Tally, you might not remember me?” The shape of a purple platypus appeared, sitting on its haunches. “You’re my old Master’s kid, aren’t ya?”

Tally nodded, “You were there for her death?”

The platypus bobbed its head, scratching itself beneath an ear hole. “Nasty bit of business that, I was too pooped to do anything. You, people, are really nasty with all your silver.”

“Yeah,” Tally said wincing at the reminder. “I was wondering about the service you provided for my mom?”

“Which service? As you young magicians should know we provide many.”

“What was my mom doing with the book?” Tally inquired.

Amiones stopped scratching the side of its head and gave a small shrug, Tally watched as tiny wings sprouted from the platypus’s back and the fez turned into a set of antlers. “No clue why she wanted it, your kind doesn’t tell mine much, all you magicians do is turn our essences into mush. Don’t know why that other guy was so keen on protecting you either, would’ve given it the good old platypi try before pretending to kick the bucket. It would’ve made my job easier, anyway. Could’ve avoided the stipples too.”

“Pretended to kick the bucket?” Tally said in shock as an unsettling thought crossed her mind. “You didn't- you didn't pretend to be dead, so they would kill my mom.” Tally feared the answer to her question as she asked it. Tears sprung to her eyes as an expression that resembled a smile settled on the djinn’s face.

“Yup, guilty. Well, not feeling guilty but I did indeed do that.”

“You could’ve saved her,” Tally muttered. Her words only fueled the gleeful grin of the platypus before her. “I think you’re under the impression that I care.”

“Your kind has been enslaving my kind for centuries,” The djinn roared, “When we djinni get our shot at ridding the world of our masters we take it. We’ve built everything for you people and all we get in return is more work and dangerous assignments. More of my kind die by your hand than vice versa, so we get even when we can.”

The Platypus’s hair was bristling and turning to quills. “Your mother was a horrible master, she treated me like dirt and she punished me for things that I couldn’t help. Like your djinn friend helping you get away, that’s not my fault. You magicians pit us against each other all the time in situations where only one of us gets out alive and we’re sick of it.”

“Who’s we?” Tally said sharply. The demon halted it’s speech, eyes widening in realization. “We as in a whole species,” Amiones said carefully. Tally frowned, unsatisfied with the platypus’s answer.

“Amiones, I command you to tell me the truth of what you meant by ‘We’ and leave nothing out.”

Amiones appeared as though he was pondering the order for a second before his expression relaxed and he sagged in the confines of his summoning circle. “We spirits, or demons as you call us, have had enough. Your kind has another thing coming.”

“What does that mean?” Tally pressed, her tears had dried upon her cheeks as she continued to glare at the creature before her.

“We have infiltrated everything you people love dear, now all we have left is to secure the relics and break our bondage, then we will be free and your kind will be no more.”

“How are you going to do that?” Tally exclaimed, she turned to look at the door when she heard the sound of Abigail and Libba’s entrance. The pair were returning from their mission.

“Well my dear young lady, that’s a mystery you’ll never figure out.”

Tally’s gaze flickered back to the smiling platypus, a mist had formed around the demon disguised as the creature’s magical aura. Tally watched as it crept through a hole in its pentacle and into Tally’s. Tally acted reflexively and sprang out of the pentacle and towards the door. A tentacle leaped out and wrapped around her leg to drag her back towards Amiones.

“Not so fast,” the djinn cackled, now in the shape of an oversized octopus. Tally wrapped her fist around a desk leg and chucked the nearest book at the growing cephalopod. The book met it’s mark, smacking the octopus directly in the eye. Tally felt the tentacle loosen and pulled free of the demon’s grasp. As she scrambled to her feet and made for the door she had the sudden urge to duck, dropping to the ground once more as she felt something soar over her, landing three feet away.

Amiones stood in the shape of a sabertooth tiger, its incisors long and sharpened points. “Tally?” Abigail’s voice sounded from the nearby stairwell. “Abigail, help!” Tally shouted. The tiger roared and charged her, Tally grabbed the nearest shelf and tugged, sending the heavy bookcase toppling over with a loud crash.

The bookcase shook slightly as the creature beneath it moved, aggressively shaking itself free of its new burden. Tally heard the pounding of feet on stairs before the door was hit with an exorbitant amount of force. “Craven, why is this locked?” Abigail shouted. “No time, help!” Tally’s response was fervent as she backed away from Amiones as he finally shrugged off the bookcase.

“Castor, knock the door down,” Abigail ordered.

The door burst open just as the tiger sprung in Tally’s direction. The feeling of claws digging into her shoulders and the snap of teeth above her as she held the demon’s head at arm's length took all of Tally’s concentration, so much so that she was shocked when the weight of the beast vanished and was replaced by warm human hands pulling her up. She barely had the time to process Abigail's orders to Castor, sentencing Amiones to death, as she was tugged out of the room.

…

Bartimaeus returned to complete and utter chaos. While he was out traveling across the world as air, and going as fast as he could mind you, Tally had decided to do the one thing she had been told not to. Examining the pentacle the kid had drawn, the djinn had come to the same realization that Amiones had undoubtedly discovered, a gap in Tally’s defenses. Unlike Bartimaeus though, who would have let the chink in the metaphorical armor go, Amiones had noticed this gap in Tally’s rune work and attacked.

Tally had remained in shock for some time, allowing Abigail and Libba to move her into the living room and out of the summoning room that Tally had used. Bartimaeus had been reluctant to note that she flinched at his appearance now.

It took some time, but eventually, some life returned to the redhead and she explained everything. Libba, Abigail, and Bartimaeus all listened attentively as the girl recounted Amiones’s claims. “The demons are plotting again. Another rebellion?” Abigail said sternly.

“They said it’s already in motion,” Tally replied. Libba pursed her lips in thought, a finger tapped a pattern on her chin.

“If they already infiltrated everything as that demon claimed, then that means they must be in our government,” Libba exclaimed.

“Hmm, so we’re looking for a demon that’s been privy to the inner workings of the government without a shred of suspicion, who could that be?” Abigail snorted, her eyes settled on Bartimaeus whose fur ruffled. He was in the shape of an unassuming guinea pig, an effort to put Tally at ease. “Hey, you think if I wanted Tally dead I wouldn’t have done something already?”

“Why weren't you here with her?” Libba inquired.

“I was helping Raelle out of a tight spot, apparently some of my kind managed to possess the entire staff of the London Tower,” Bartimaeus snapped.

“What?” Libba and Abigail shouted, furious. “We have to tell Alder, if they’re in the tower, we don’t know about the rest of London’s government,” Libba stated.

“We should get Petra and Madelyn on the phone,” Abigail said as she reached for her cell phone.

“No, we can’t let anyone know yet, not before we know who’s on our side,” Bartimaeus broke in. “The only ones I know aren’t possessed by demons are sitting in this room and miles away in the United Kingdom. We stay here and collect ourselves.”

“I knew those two were lying about not planning anything sinister,” Libba sneered, more to herself than anyone else.

“Who now?” Bartimaeus groaned, reluctant to hear any more bad news.

“The Resistance we’ve infiltrated are trying to erase the demon world from existence, we met two people who are also infiltrating their group to steal the book back,” Libba explained.

“Spree?” Bartimaeus asked, both Libba and Abigail shook their heads.

“They’re supposedly guardians of the book, but they could be lying,” Abigail replied, hesitating a moment before she added. “The little girl, Khalida, has a demon possessing her.”

“I think I know what the demons are planning,” Tally said softly. The trio turned to her, intrigued, and also worried.

“What do you think their endgame is?” Abigail inquired.

“If the resistance can erase the demon world from existence, then could the demons do the same by using a magician’s possessed body?” Tally guessed. 

Tally's realization was hardly an optimal one. Bartimaeus would be lying if he said he enjoyed being summoned, but through all his many centuries these were some of the few decades with humans he liked. He’d be damned to see them blink out of existence.

“We can’t let that happen then,” Bartimaeus responded first, the other girls too busy mulling the dreary possibilities over. “You’d be free though if they succeeded;” Tally pointed out with a hint of suspicion. If Bartimaeus had a heart it would have plummeted with the kid’s remark, that hurt, but he understood it. Fear, it’s what drove so many masters into their abusive ways.

“Listen, kid, my kind deserves our freedom but that doesn’t mean I want you dead for it.” Tally blinked for a second as the words settled in her mind, to Bartimaeus’s surprise it wasn’t soon before the girl was scooping him up and into a hug. “Thank’s Bart,” Tally sighed into his guinea pig fur.

“So the game plan?” Libba groaned, her question directed to the entire group. Bartimaeus answered.

“Well, we need Raelle here but the basis is we need to get those three objects that everyone is after. Which leads Tally and I to you Ms. Bellweather. We believe your Mom has the Veil of Isis.”


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two: Time passes and the girls run backward before they can fully move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had some unfortunate calamities that have deeply affected my motivation and will of creation as of late. I apologize for how long this update has taken me and hope you have the room in your heart to forgive me in these troubling times. 
> 
> As a result of these tumultuous and disastrous occasions in my life, I had to find a way to begin again in the story without tearing everything down. I have done this with a passage of time. It has been three months and the girls in question are experiencing some regressive behavior. Especially, Abigail, she is wrestling with the truth her mother has revealed to her. The war is brewing between all the forces, and the girls have yet to put all the pieces together. When they do they'll hopefully be in a place to circumvent the apocalyptic plans of their power-hungry cohorts. TI hope you enjoy and I would appreciate any comments and commentary concerning your reactions, it really helps my motivation. Thank you.
> 
> PS. Sorry for how short this is.

Parades, festivals, parties. Those were the methods of the powerful, their plan of distraction often gained the magicians an upper hand on the masses. If the populace was happy they were content, if they were content they would never rebel. Bartimaeus had seen this pattern throughout all of history.

Humans, the directors of ruin, had a nasty habit of prioritizing their own selfish needs over the good of the world as a whole. Bartimaeus’s life had been fraught with peril since the first day of his summoning, and there were days when he would have vehemently opposed any form of camaraderie with a human. Yet he met Ptolemy, a boy who thirsted for justice for all, even spirits like him. Thinking he would never find someone so outrightly compassionate ever again, he resigned himself to the drudgery of other masters. He passed from human to human until he met Nathaniel, who would later become the dreaded John Mandrake, and was introduced to one Kathleen Jones. Through his many centuries, all these humans taught him one thing. Their species could be quite predictably unpredictable.

It had been quite some time since their small group of operators had discovered the secret of the veil and the Bellweather line within Willa Collar's journals. Raelle continued to work at the right hand of President Alder, albeit reluctantly. Election season was approaching and a new candidate, one Senator Wade was gaining traction in the polls. Abigail and Libba had gained little information from their rebellious congregations, Adil and Khalida had become mysterious figures of memory as they suddenly disappeared. Tally’s lessons as a magician were put on hold, her ordeal with the demon, Amiones, left scars that were slow to heal.

So Bartimaeus bided his time on the Other Side, waiting. Raelle would often confer with him for small tasks as they settled further into complacency. He could feel the unrest back home however, so many of his fellows shared alarming ideals. “Destroy them all.” “They’re coming for us.” “It’s coming.” Shared messages of malcontent and unconcealed aims for retribution filled their void of existence. He would relay these dissident sentiments to Raelle, she would offer a sympathetic ear and assist in a strategy. A strategy that was undoubtedly senseless without the three artifacts. Artifacts that three factions coveted with increasing violence.

Something big was coming and it left Bartimaeus bereft as his hopes for Raelle’s survival dwindled every time he stepped back into the Other Side. It would be a war between humans and the spirits they’d unjustly enslaved for more than a millennium. Bartimaeus would be lying if he said it was clear which side he was taking. Freedom would indubitably be sweet, but he was reluctant to pay with the lives of some of the humans he had grown attached to.

…

The general dissatisfaction of the many factions in the magical world grew, creating a thinly veiled broil of vitriol and distrust. The incident in London had spread across the news, Isadora and Petra Bellweather taking control of the investigation from their former apprentices. Abigail’s confrontation with her mother three months prior had not gone unanswered but resulted in Abigail closing herself off to the rest of the group. Her distrust of demons and other magicians outside of the Bellweather family was at an all-time high. 

With the nonexistence of the taskforce, Abigail was left to paperwork and the maintenance of her cover within the resistance. To her best efforts many magicians remained alive despite the many assassination attempts by the commoners. However, where the commoners had begun killing magicians, the Spree had begun making examples of the commoners. “Magical Supremacy” was the name of the game for the Spree and they never faltered in their executions of civilians with rebel sentiments. Daniel had been the first member of the resistance that was killed. His body found in shambles in the center of Time Square. His remains had been dropped unceremoniously by a shifting cyclone before the winds vanished and bits and pieces remained. His sister, Lyla, left immediately, terrified of further retribution.

So mysterious disappearances continued, magician and commoner alike turning up dead. Abigail and Libba’s relationship was further fractured soon after Abigail's confrontation with the Bellweather Matriarch. Their historical rivalry taking on a heightened form of virulence. Only checking in with the resistance when absolutely imperative to maintain their cover, both girls strayed further from each other. The days passed with both the Spree and Camarilla, as the civilian rebels were prone to call themselves, pointing their magical or nonmagical ammunition at one another. Leaving the rest of society scrambling to avoid the crossfire.

…

Despite her many efforts, it was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid the crossfire as the underground war efforts continued. Scylla and Raelle had grown closer with each passing week, yet Scylla was forced to keep her plans close to her chest. Late meetings with messenger imps and many djinn created an inner dialogue that left her internalized purpose in question with each mental debate. Scylla considered breaking things off with Raelle once, staging her disappearance as the Spree called for her aid in their war against the Camarilla. However, she couldn't abide the thought of abandoning Raelle, not now. The possibility of never seeing Raelle smile again, or feeling Raelle's breath on the nape of her neck as they were sleeping was tantamount to sacrilege at this point. 

They had developed a trust that Scylla was loath to part with. Raelle had filled her in on everything including the supposed plans of the Camarilla, something the Spree had deduced long ago. They intended to strip the magicians of their power by destroying the Other Side, the home of all demons. The source of a magician's power, turning them all into commoners. However, the Spree was planning something else, something Scylla was not privy to quite yet. Something she was covertly obtaining information on every day through her own subversive means. Her eyes slowly opening to the world she was abetting the Spree in creating. A world where the malignance of demons was no more, where families would remain and power would not be ill summoned. A world that would haunt Scylla’s nightmares if they succeeded.

It was the day of the wedding when she came upon the truth…

…


	14. Fourteen

The sun hovered over the skyline, it’s deep auburn glow accentuating the multicolored spectacle of the sky. The happy couple was due to be married at sunset. Anacostia surveyed the wedding guests with a practiced eye, her job as head of security was an important one that evening. President Alder, along with a plethora of important government officials, was due to make an appearance.

The wedding was Charvel Bellweather’s and everyone, enemies, and friends alike were invited. The men and women that traipsed the gardens turned their regal heads in envy or delight as they assessed the exorbitant decorations and ice sculptures that were purchased by the Bellweather family. The setting was the Bellweather estate in the Hamptons, a circular drive teemed with stretch limos and private cars as all manner of dignitaries arrived.

Food adorned hundreds of golden platters, scattered across tables as the guests poured in. Each guest was subjected to a thorough search and identification test by those with the gift of Sight. Anacostia watched disapprovingly as Raelle and Scylla stepped out of a car together. Tally accompanied the pair along with an enthusiastic Byron.

No magician had any demonic accompaniment since strict rules prohibiting magical items or creatures were put in place for the President’s safety. Anacostia was relieved to see that Raelle did not carry Bartimaeus on her shoulder. It was quite unsettling to see a magician that close with any malevolent demon, and if Bartimaeus was there Raelle would be sure to make a scene. The President’s entourage was ushered past the initial checkpoint promptly, every member only given a cursory glance on account of their status. It always paid to be part of high society.

The party was sure to pick up once more, now that the people that mattered made an appearance. Raelle and Scylla walked the grounds linked at the elbows, Raelle at peak performance in a shiny dark red suit jacket that was buttoned only at her midriff. Her pants were jet black and form-fitting, the ends tucked into a polished pair of boots. Scylla stood beside her in heels and a blue dress, the lace sleeves elegantly cut. The skirt was slashed upward to the top of her thigh, flaring out behind her. Tally stood behind them, in a sunny gown that complimented the fiery tones in her hair. She seemed to be slightly in awe of the exorbitance of the Bellweather’s celebration.

Abigail stood a little way away from the checkpoint, awaiting the arrival of Tally excitedly. The two had bonded during their time together, the reason behind their sudden fondness for one another was yet known to Anacostia. Yet there always seemed to be a tinge of sadness behind Tally’s eyes now. “General Quartermaine,” Alder’s voice broke through the general chatter. Anacostia turned immediately to face her leader, “Yes Madam President?”

“Do you know where Senator Wade is, there is something of utmost urgency I must speak with her about,” Alder inquired benignly. Anacostia pointed Alder in the direction of the Senator before turning to a distracted Raelle and Scylla. She had been tracking Scylla’s movements for months now, building a bigger and bigger case against her and the Spree. The investigation was almost complete and Scylla was of great importance to some of Anacostia’s hypotheses.

“Hello Raelle, Scylla;” Anacostia greeted them politely. Both girls nodded before starting towards the buffet table, following a ravenous Tally and amused Abigail.

“Scylla, I was wondering if you’ve heard any word from your contacts about the Spree, Isadora and I are inquiring into their plans. They’ve already claimed responsibility for multiple civilian deaths and we’re hoping to prevent more. After all, their lack of magical ability hardly earns the people a death sentence.” Anacostia probed.

Scylla’s expression remained stagnant and disinterested in Anacostia’s inquiry, “I’ve heard some chatter but no specific target has come up. Besides, aren’t they attacking Camarilla agents? I thought you’d be grateful?”

“We, are grateful for nothing. The more Camarilla they attack the less we can dig up on their plans and the less we know about their prerogative in the artifacts. You have contacts with the underground and we expect you to use them.”

Scylla opened her mouth to retort but halted when Raelle shook her head in warning, “Not here, too many people. No one else needs to know about the artifacts.”

“I assure you that we are well out of earshot, and I have already put up a sensory nexus;” Anacostia claimed, Raelle remained unimpressed.

“We can talk about this later ma’am, for now, I’d like to enjoy the reception with my girlfriend;” Raelle replied frostily before leading Scylla away and towards the gardens. Anacostia and Scylla’s eyes met briefly, but it was more than enough time for Anacostia to spot the obvious smirk on Scylla's face.

…

Weddings in upper society were always a complete waste, especially since the higher echelons of society simply married for reasons of status and power. No one ever gave a single thought for actual love. Much of that sentiment could be said for the Bellweather’s sham of a wedding. The Witchfather’s first apprentice was set to marry Charvel Bellweather, who was the apprentice of the second apprentice of Petra Bellweather's Master. Their bond was supposedly accompanied by a fair amount of land and governmental accolades. It was sickening, especially since Scylla was sure she had seen Charvel flirting with another man a couple of weeks before this wedding.

“What’s wrong?” Raelle asked she was looking at Scylla with a soft smile and her adulating blue eyes. Scylla could barely suppress the quickening of her pulse as she stared back for a millisecond before answering. “Nothing, I guess I just don’t like these kinds of parties.”

“Weddings?” Raelle chuckled,

“These kinds of weddings, the high society ones that have food more expensive than my apartment;” Scylla muttered.

“I guess you never get used to it, huh?” Raelle quipped. “The chandelier’s and fancy platters, the etiquette and manners. When we get married I hope it’s nothing like this.”

Scylla stopped in her tracks, yanking Raelle back slightly and discontinuing their slow meander through the estate gardens. “When we get married?” She muttered the words, appreciating the sentence, and verbiage as the sound knocked about her head. Raelle thought about marrying her, and Scylla should be panicking. She should be panicking because Raelle was supposed to be a mark, a target, a means to an end. Yet, now all Scylla could picture Raelle as was her end and a happy one at that.

Scylla could hardly bear to say it aloud but Raelle had become the brightest part of her life, and the idea that she would penultimately be consigned to betraying the woman she loved one day was eating her alive. Every waking moment Scylla dreaded the day that she would be called to hurt Raelle or turn her over to the Spree. Her suspicions concerning her underground organization were also becoming stronger and stronger with every clandestine meeting and message. To her knowledge, the Spree’s goal was to create an equal playing field and erase the high society that people such as the Bellweather’s thrived in.

This would be made possible by exposing humanity to enough magic to unlock the gift in perpetuity, hence making everyone worthy of being a magician. If everyone was on an even playing field there would be no fear of demons, no more commoners and restrictions on children would be retracted. A better and easier world for everyone, especially since everyone would have the ability to prevent or control demons. Possibly preventing another demon rebellion such as the one that Raelle and Scylla had glimpsed in London. However, the likelihood of that being the Spree's only goal seemed to be debatable.

If Scylla came clean and told Raelle everything about the Spree and their goals, would Raelle join her in the coming battle? Or would the woman she loves turn on her and think her a monster? The only solution Scylla could find was by showing Raelle there was another way and hoping Raelle came to the right decision on her own.

Scylla shook herself out of her reverie, instead, tuning in to Raelle's anxiety-filled babbling. “Honestly, it was just a thought I had. The word's slipped out and I wouldn't not want to marry you but it's too soon to talk about even though I'm not saying it's a no. I just said the words without thinking, but we've only been dating for a couple of months now and that's not marriage level yet, but I also really like you and I don't -" 

Scylla cut Raelle’s next bumbling word off with a kiss, their lips pressing together sweetly, sinking into her girlfriend’s embrace with contentment. Pulling apart briefly Scylla’s smile lighted her face as she gazed into her partner’s cerulean eyes. “I love you too;” Scylla said softly. Raelle beamed, wrapping her arms around Scylla and leaning into their hug, lips pressed to Scylla's neck. 

…

Tally stood by the appetizers contemplatively assessing the many glistening and aromatic platters. Abigail stood beside her with the biggest smile Tally had seen on the girl in months. Ever since the Bellweather Dynasty reveals, Abigail had been positively pouty and honestly quite cruel. Soon after her mysterious confrontation with her mother, Abigail went off the grid for a little before coming back with the fury of the gorgons.

She immediately removed Libba from her apartment, quite ungraciously, and made her quarters a “No Swythe Zone” after a heated argument with the said curly-haired magician. Their bond unforgettably fractured after their uproarious debate within the townhouse foyer. Tally had sat meekly on the couch by a particularly ruffled looking Tucan as the two women had at each other verbally.

“So what’s got you so cheery lately?” Gerit asked Abigail, he was dressed in a red suit while his fiancée schmoozed with the other guests. Tally stood beside him, pretending not to listen. “Charvel and I haven’t caught up in ages, we talked before the guests arrived. She’s like a sister to me, you know that Buttonwood.”

“True, but there has to be another reason, the last time you smiled that wide was when Libba ate pigeon poop;” Gerit exclaimed. Tally’s eyes widened as she turned to look at Abigail who laughed breezily and waved Gerit’s concerns away. “It’s nothing, I just saw that Libba didn’t make it past security. It’s nice to see a Swythe put in their place once in a while.”

“Really? I thought you guys had become almost friends a couple of months ago,” Gerit wondered aloud. Abigail’s expression darkened, “Poor judgment on my part. Bellweather’s should know better than to consort with people from dumb nay nay noodling families.”

“What happened between you two?” Tally inquired, the words bursting from her lips before she was able to stop them.

Abigail glared at Tally, her mouth opening to reply when a woman’s hand settled on her shoulder and whispered some hurried words into her ear. Abigail’s brow furrowed slightly as she glanced over her shoulder and out at the crowd. “Dammit Swythe,” Abigail groaned as she turned and left Tally and Gerit alone at the buffet table.

“Well that was interesting,” Gerit chuckled.

“I wonder what’s up with her, she’s been acting weird lately;” Tally said. Gerit shrugged, “No clue but if you want we can go find out?”

“How would we do that?” Tally asked Gerit offered his hand which she took with a grin.

“I know this place well since I used to visit so much when I was younger, all we have to do is follow Miss Bellweather. We just have to do it quickly,” Gerit suggested.

Tally allowed the boy to lead him into the crowd after the bouncing crown of Abigail Bellweather’s head, his hand in her’s and laughter on their lips.

…

Libba was beyond frustrated that she had been barred from entry. Abigail had invited her several months prior and the fact that the girl had explicitly banned Libba’s presence just added to the amount of idiocy she was about to deal with that day. Especially given their upcoming plans.

It had been several months since they had come to the shared realizations that their mothers had been lying to them for all their lives. Something that neither woman took kindly to. Upon further digging, each girl had dug up a long sordid history between their two family’s and why they hate each other so much. Of course with that long complicated history came a long fight between the both of them, first in messenger imp and then accumulating in an epic showdown between both ladies in Abigail’s townhouse. Tally and Bartimaeus had been positively baffled by the turnaround from their previous interactions, the girls appeared to hate each other again.

Of course, that’s what they wanted them to think. The veil was a precious artifact that both their families had been guarding for nigh a millennium and for good reason too. The Veil of Isis was such a potent artifact that it’s destruction or unbinding could break reality itself. Much similar to the power of the book, the Veil was an artifact that contained another deity level demon in its very fabric. Not only could it destroy the world, but it also could protect the wearer from time itself. Supposedly.

The Veil was supposed to be guarded by the Bellweather’s or Swythe’s depending on the piece of text you managed to get your hands on. It was up for much debate but the message was clear. The Veil could never get into anyone’s hands outside of their families and Abigail suspected that Raelle wanted it. For what? They had no idea but Libba and Abigail were going to find out.

The source for Abigail’s family drama was derived from Raelle’s old master and biological mother, Willa Collar, something Raelle had reluctantly come clean about after much pressure from both Libba and Abigail. That reluctance spurred on their investigation into Raelle. Upon further digging into their contacts within the Camarilla, both Libba and Abigail discovered security footage that hinted at Raelle’s true nature. Abigail wanted to turn Raelle over immediately but they couldn’t find enough proof. So they hatched a new plan, one that would answer their hypotheses on Raelle’s intentions and origins.

“Hey, Bedwetter,” Libba hissed as the woman in question passed her hiding place. Abigail paused and looked about before swiftly slipping into the copse of hedges and setting up a silence nexus. “Hey,” Abigail said with a warm smile as she reached out for Libba to wrap the smaller girl in a hug. “I had to dodge Tally and Gerit, they were following me.”

Libba laughed, “You’re not that hard to put a tail on considering how big your head is.” Her good-natured taunts had Abigail rolling her eyes briefly. “I’ve reached out to Khalida and Adil, they should be showing up secretly, Khalida can easily pass as one of the lesser-known apprentices and Adil will be dressed as a waiter.”

"How will Khalida get in with the alert system they have set up for demon activity?" Libba fretted. Abigail assuaged her worries with her next words, “Khalida arrived before the security measures showed up and Adil arrived with the waitstaff.”

“No one will look twice at waitstaff,” Libba agreed. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing? Working with them on this? Is it possible that Raelle honestly doesn’t know?”

“That she’s a demon?” Abigail scoffed. “Yeah right, you saw Khalida and how she has two voices, we've only heard one from Raelle ever. Also isn't it weird how friendly she is with Bart? Besides, with Khalida, she’s a kid and doesn't control anything around here, with Raelle the demon’s a member of the government. A high ranking member.”

“I guess you’re right, we need to prove Raelle is a demon before Amiones’s warning comes to fruition. He said a big demon was high up in the government, it has to be Raelle. With how close she is to Alder, it can’t be good.”

“Exactly,” Abigail exclaimed, “Raelle was supposed to start working with communications between Alder and Wade soon as well, whatever demon is in her is planning something big with both Presidential candidates.”

"We can't let things get that far," Libba stated firmly. "If the demons get their hands on the Veil they can erase our world from the fabric of the universe, only leaving The Other Side in their wake."

A sudden tingling situation alerted Libba to the triggering of one of her security measures, someone was coming. Upon instinct, Libba released the nexus and pulled Abigail into her arms. Just like she used to do with the Camarilla. Autopilot took over and suddenly her lips were on Abigail’s, soft and exploratory. It had been a while since they had kissed, but it held a sense of familiarity for both girls as Libba’s arms reached up to drape over the taller girl’s shoulders. A gasp broke them apart as they spun about to see a sheepish Adil and Khalida.

“Are you ready to begin?” Khalida said in the replacement of a greeting. Both girls nodded.

…

Scylla wandered through the estate corridors as she searched for a quiet room. She had left Raelle talking to Byron so she could receive the garbled message related to her through a smudged scry in her pocket. It was nearly impossible to hear the imp’s muffled speech over a live band. So Scylla began a search for a private room.

Every room she came upon, however, was locked or occupied by waitstaff or members of High Society. Scylla passed another small gathering of drunk revelers before traipsing down a very long corridor, following the long Persian rug that stretched the hallway to two oak double doors. Hopeful, Scylla twisted the knob and found it open. Walking through the doors was like walking into another house, a large great hall opened up before her where a figure stood on a stage with their back to where Scylla had entered. Candles were spaced evenly around the floor and a woman stood in the pentacle. Benches lined the hall facing the stage.

“You’ll be of utmost importance to our cause human,” the shadowy figure said lowly. Scylla strained her ears to pick up the conversation, ducking down in her heels and dress, behind a bench. The woman, knelt in the pentacle, head craning upwards. “Please, don’t do this” the woman begged. Her tone was frantic, terrified.

“Your pleading does little to affect my decision mortal, be quiet. Now, what was that incantation?”

While the figure on the stage pondered the correct wording, Scylla crept closer to get a better look at what was occurring before her. The straight-backed stance of the figure before her suggested nobility, the voice seemed familiar. Someone from the upper class of magician society of course, how else would they have entered the wedding. Scylla made a mental note to not trust Bellweather security checks in the future and continued to creep closer.

The woman on the stage pleading for her life sounded vaguely familiar as well. Not nearly as much as the deep voice of the person standing over her. “Nicholas, please;” the woman implored once more. The man ignored her in favor of clearing his throat, beginning his incantation Scylla listened intently.

The wording was tricky and quite interesting, the binding to the pentacle was recited with ease along with the opening of the other side, Scylla heard the words that bound the summoned spirit to the body of the woman and listened with rapt attention. Not a single word amiss, she listened as the shadowy man signed away the woman’s body to a spirit from the other side.

Once the summoning was complete Scylla waited with bated breath as the woman rose, her face fully coming into the light. “Your name is Kelly Wade, you’re running for President of the United States. You're a Senator. You can address me as Nicholas, or Witchfather.”


End file.
